


drink margaritas in sin

by iv (ivan)



Series: your love was handmade for somebody like me [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game), DCU
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, No Batman, oswald gets his totally undeserved happy end in this one lmao, the Agency AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:39:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 46,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12787131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivan/pseuds/iv
Summary: charlie is a rookie agent sent out by the agency to catch the elusive penguin. things don’t go as planned.





	1. smoke and mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> part two will be basically a retelling of the canon events up to a certain point.

The Agency wasn’t too fond of treating its agents gently - they were supposed to be ready for anything, at any time. Throwing people in at the deep end was a post-training norm - and Charlie wasn’t an exception. Her first solo assignment - without her training partner, agent Avesta - was supposed to be a big one.

So there she was, inside Amanda Waller’s office, under her bosses watchful gaze.

“Sit down, agent.” Waller said, pointing at a chair. “I reviewed your training results, and it seems you’re good to go. Capable, driven… You can handle this.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Charlie said nervously; Amanda was a bit intimidating. Okay, more than _a bit_. That woman ran the Agency for years; sitting in front of her felt a bit like dining with the president.

“We’ll be sending you to Gotham.” Waller said, sliding a folder across the desk. “Are you aware of Gotham’s problem with masked criminals?”

“Yes.” Charlie said, glancing at the folder; Waller nodded in its direction.

“Open it.” she said.

Inside was the Agency’s file on the Penguin - a mysterious, masked criminal whose real identity was a mystery to the general public. He was ruthless, elusive and seemingly had a bone to pick with Bruce Wayne.

“That’s your target, agent.” Waller said calmly, as Charlie was reading the file. “Flip to the last side. There’s a real kicker.”

Charlie did as she was told and raised her eyebrows in surprise; somehow the Agency managed to uncover Penguin’s real identity. His name was Oswald Cobblepot, and his story was one of loss and betrayal.

“There’s also a catch, agent.” Waller said as Charlie closed the file and slipped it into her bag to read it later. “I want you to guess it.”

“You want me to capture the Penguin.” Charlie said immediately and Waller nodded with approval. “Cobblepot can just deny everything, but Penguin… Penguin can be unmasked. And that can’t be denied, especially when caught in the right moment.”

“Very good.” Amanda said and Charlie sighed quietly with relief. “You’ll be supervised by Rick Flagg, and can count on assistance from our man in Penguin’s crew.”

“But if we have a mole… Why hadn’t he been arrested yet?”

“Because our mole never saw him red-handed. And that’s.... Where _you_ come in. You will get close to him, you will earn his trust, and then, when he least expects it…”

Waller paused for a moment and leaned forward, still looking Charlie in the eye.

“...you’ll get him.” she finished quietly, straightening her back again.

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Flagg and McDonagh will give you all the details.” Waller said dismissively. “But all the basics are in the file. Don’t take it with you. _No one_ can know you’re from the Agency.”

“Obviously.”

“Now, before I let you go… What’s your plan, agent?” Waller asked. “I’m not expecting a detailed, step-by-step plan, but surely you have at least the faintest idea of how you’re going to play this.”

“I do, actually.” Charlie said hesitantly; and Waller nodded and laced her fingers together, leaning in slightly.

“Let’s hear it.” she said.

“Young, rich socialite.” Charlie said after clearing her throat. “A spoiled and a bit naive only child, who developed an obsession with the Penguin.”

“Mmm.” Waller muttered pensively. “Passable. True crime fans are not unheard of, and being eccentric is… Acceptable if you’re rich. Yes, I think this might actually work. Well, agent.” Waller said, changing her tone to a more serious one. “We’ll transport you to Gotham two days after tomorrow. Pack up, read the file, work out the details of your backstory. You’re dismissed. And… Good luck.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Charlie said, getting up, gathering her bag and leaving.

Outside she bumped into Avesta, who was also waiting for her first big thing.

“What did you get?” Iman asked as soon as she saw Charlie close the door to Waller’s office behind her. “Come on, tell me!”

“I got the Penguin.” Charlie said and Avesta groaned with envy.

“Shit, that guy’s a challenge!” she said. “Robberies, arms dealing, illegal boxing matches… Waller must really believe in you!”

“Yeah, or maybe she wants me to screw up so she has a reason to kick me out.” Charlie said, smiling anxiously. “Anyway. There’s plenty of masked criminals in Gotham. Who knows, maybe we’ll get matching cases!”

“Normal people would settle on shirts or tattoos.” Avesta said with a smile and Charlie giggled. “Alright. I’m going in. Fingers crossed?”

“Fingers crossed.”

She waited for Avesta outside Waller’s office, absentmindedly flipping through Penguin’s file. He had an impressive track record, one that began in Essex; the Agency’s intel pointed at _revenge_ as the main reason why he suddenly popped up in Gotham. It made sense, assuming he really was Oswald Cobblepot.

(She could believe it. Agency’s intel was accurate, thanks to state of the art tech and some of the sharpest brains on board.)

Penguin did look like one hell of a task; but she was sure she’ll manage, once she gets the details out from the Agency’s agents in Gotham. Waller mentioned Flagg and McDonagh; both of those names sounded vaguely familiar.

Sound of the door closing snapped her back to reality. She looked at Iman, who giddily shuffled in her direction.

“Well? What did you get?” Charlie asked, closing the file.

“The Joker!” Avesta said happily. “Meaning I’m _also_ going to Gotham! We got our matching cases!”

“Hey, nice!” Charlie said with a relieved smile, furrowing her brows after a while. “Wait. Hold up. The Joker?”

She opened Penguin’s file again, as Iman looked at her, visibly puzzled.

“Our targets are at war.” she said finally, finding the right page in Penguin’s file; a description of rising tension between the clown and the furry. “It can be either great or absolutely terrible.”

“We can feed each other information.” Iman suggested. “Or we can tip the scales in favor of one of them.”

“Nice.” Charlie said, nodding. “That’s a good idea. But… Who do we want out first?”

“First let’s get to Gotham, settle down, make contact… Get to know them. Then we can decide who goes first.”

“Alright, sounds fair. Celebratory drinks?”

“Hell yes.”

***  
Finally the day arrived; Charlie and Iman were transported to Gotham, where their new - albeit only temporary - lives were waiting; everything was set for both of them, for Charlie’s plan to pass as a bored socialite wanting to play with fire and for Iman’s plan to pass as a transfer psych student working on her phd.

“Penguin does _everything_ for attention.” Charlie said on their way to Gotham, in Agency’s private car. “He’ll reach out.”

“And what if he won’t?”

“Then I’ll reach out to him.” Charlie said with a shrug. “I’m a bored, rich girl. I have resources and an obsession. I’ll seek him out. Pave my way into his trust.”

“Optimistic attitude. Dig that.” Iman said, looking and sounding nervous. “I genuinely hope I won’t get _too_ close to the Joker, you know.”

“Why’s that? Besides him being a dangerous maniac, that is.”

“I’m Gotham born and raised, Charlie.” Avesta sighed. “And he seems to have a problem with this city and people living in it. If he senses this… I’m probably done. And dead. Mostly dead.”

“Then we’ll take care of your target first.” Charlie decided. “Let’s discreetly help Penguin bring him down. Then… Let’s take care of the bird mask guy. What’s up with it anyway? Of all animals - why _penguin_?”

“Nobody knows.” Avesta said with a sigh. “It’s a mystery. Even Nygma doesn’t know, and he’s our best profiler. He has no clue.”

“Damn.” Charlie muttered. “If _Nygma_ doesn’t know… Then I’ll never find out.”

“Well, you can always ask. Maybe he’ll tell you.”

“Right.” Charlie sighed. “In any case… Don’t worry too much. We’ll get through it.”

Flagg waited for them in front of the Agency’s field office, hidden in a warehouse at the docks. He was a tall, visibly tired, blonde haired man with cordial smile painted on his face and the coldest eyes Charlie had ever seen.

“Ladies.” he greeted them, before promptly turning around and coming inside. “Come on, don’t just stand there. And close the door behind you. We have some debriefing to do.”

Charlie and Iman looked at each other and shrugged wordlessly, following Flagg; inside of the building was in a much better state than the outside. The walls were freshly painted and most importantly - it was warm and dry.

“How’s the situation?” Avesta asked; Flagg glanced at her, looking up from a computer screen.

“Skipping the introductions?” he asked politely, returning his attention to the screen. “It’s alright, there’s no need for them anyway. Agent Avesta, agent Schiller-Aberdeen. I’m special agent Rick Flagg. I’ll be supervising your operations and reporting to Waller on your behalf. I’m also the guy you call when you’re in need of supplies or support. Speaking of which…”

He walked up to Charlie and Iman and handed them two identical smartphones.

“Agency issued. Everything’s encrypted. They are safe to use. My number’s saved as _uncle Ben_.”

“Thanks.” Charlie said, taking the device and slipping it into her pocket. “Now. What’s the current situation?”

“You arrived at a perfect time, actually. Penguin’s been laying low for a week now and the Joker seems to be getting bolder. Luring Penguin out might be a bit tricky, but… We have a mole on the inside.”

He walked back to the computer and opened a photo of a young, tall woman in formal clothes; she looked very serious and had olive skin and black, curly hair.

“Meet Louise McDonagh.” Flagg said proudly. “Assistant district attorney and our spy among Penguin’s men. They’re friends. She knows his ways… And knows how to fake them.” he added grimly. “She’s involved with GCPD’s Penguin investigation. She’s been leading them astray for a while now, waiting for us to swoop in.”

“Great.” Charlie said, still staring at McDonagh’s photo. “I’ll reach out to her.”

“Already taken care of. You two will meet tonight at the bar in your hotel, The Peak. Officially you’re old friends. You went to school together. Our IT guys are fabricating your records as we speak. They’ll be absolutely spotless, and you’ll be a perfectly average student. You know. To not stand out too much.”

“Understandable.”

“Louise will put you on the right track. As for you…” he said, turning his attention to Avesta. “Joker is unpredictable, but he seems to have an affinity for psych students who focus on BPD or bipolar disorder. He’s also an egomaniac. Be vocal about your support for him and he should reach out. From there… You’ll have to improvise. He’s unpredictable, and we don’t have anyone on the inside.”

“Actually, sir…” Avesta said nervously. “I was thinking C… Agent Schiller-Aberdeen can help me out.”

“How so?” Flagg asked, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms. Charlie cleared her throat.

“Our targets are at war.” she explained. “If Iman gets close enough to the Joker, I can help Penguin hit his weak spot.”

“That’s a sound strategy.” Flagg said after a while, nodding. “But in that case I’d recommend getting to the Joker first. That way you’ll have something to offer to the Penguin from the start.”

“Fine by me.” Charlie said with a nod, turning to Avesta. “You think you can handle it?”

“Just remember, agent Avesta… You’re not _entirely_ on your own.” Flagg said. “At least not if it depends on me. You’re fresh meat, but you gotta have potential if you were assigned the Joker case in the first place. So you know. Take a deep breath and count to ten.”

“I can handle it.” Avesta said firmly. “I’ve been trained for this. What are you going to tell Penguin if he asks where did your information come from?”

“The truth.” Charlie said and Flagg raised his eyebrows again. “Well, not the _entire_ truth. I’ll skip the Agency part. But the whole rest… Works.”

“Fine.” Flagg said. “Just remember, you’re playing a role. Act accordingly… And we’re golden.”

Once the debriefing was over, he led them to the back exit, where two cars were parked - a mild price range BMW and a black Porsche. Fitting vehicles for their roles - both equipped with the Agency tech inside.

“Well ladies, good luck.” Flagg said as they were getting into their respective cars. “Call me as soon as you make any progress. I’ll now go, let Waller know you’ve been debriefed. Once again… Good luck.”

Charlie and Iman nodded at each other one last time and left, each in different direction; Iman towards the campus, and Charlie towards the Peak, one of Gotham’s most expensive hotels.

Her stuff arrived on time, and was being taken care of by the hotel staff; no tech - she had to rely on what Flagg had in the hideout. She couldn’t risk having anything in her room, except for a normal looking laptop, which ran two operating systems - a normal Windows, for the sake of keeping the disguise up, and the Agency’s own system, with full access to the comm lines and the database. Switching between the two systems would only take a single keystroke; it was a nice toy. The Agency’s IT department knew what they’re doing.

She met Louise McDonagh few hours later, in early evening hours.

“Hey, Louise!” Charlie said, approaching the woman with a smile. “It’s been ages!”

“It’s been too long.” Louise agreed with a smile; but as they - briefly - hugged she squeezed Charlie tightly.

“Penguin’s men were following me.” Louise whispered and Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. “Act normal. We’ll talk the details out in your room.” she finished, letting the agent go.

So, for the first hour or so - they acted normal, talking about their completely false school memories and non-existent exes and classmates. Finally Louise suggested going upstairs and maybe ordering a pizza and watching a movie in their pajamas, just like the old times.

“Sure!” Charlie said with a smile, briefly glancing over Louise’s shoulder; she could see two men staring at them. One was nearly bald and had a mustache and mutton chops, while the other one… Well, for a brief moment Charlie was sure she’s looking at Skrillex in shades.

(But it couldn’t have been Skrillex. Or could it? Would Penguin have Skrillex working for him? Would Skrillex work for the Penguin?)

“Come on.” she said with a smile, leading Louise to the elevator; as soon as the doors closed and the elevator started to move Louise sighed with relief.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” she said apologetically. “But Penguin’s feeling… Paranoid. So he sent Tennyson and Schulz after me.”

“You know them?”

“Oh yeah, I know all of his men. Either personally… Or from their files.” Louise said with a shrug. “But I think we’re good now. You’re a good actress.”

“Agency training.” Charlie replied shortly. “Tell me about him.”

“I reviewed the file Agency gave you back at HQ, so I’ll skip stuff you already know about. He has a complicated relationship with broccoli, he likes dogs, is not an early bird… Also he’s a sap. A sentimental loser, who pays attention to dates and anniversaries.” Louise said, glancing at Charlie as the elevator dinged and the door opened. “Which might actually be useful.”

“Useful how?” Charlie asked, letting them both into her apartment and locking the door behind.

“The anniversary of his parents’s wedding is coming up… And coincidentally, so is the auction held by Carmine Falcone. Among the items… Esther’s engagement ring.” Louise said, sitting down on the couch. “I can talk Penguin out of showing up there, because this is _precisely_ what Falcone is counting on. It’s a trap. And you’re going to waltz in, buy the ring… And leave the rest to me. You know. Your old friend who also knows about your obsession.” she finished with a smirk and Charlie groaned, feeling like this role she decided to play is going to bite her in the ass, sooner or later.

“Do we have a guarantee of winning?”

“My bet is the Agency’s willing to sink some money into getting Oswald off the streets. So yeah. Plus there won’t be many rivals anymore. People may not realize Oswald Cobblepot is the Penguin, but they’d still rather pretend the Cobblepots never existed. It’s an ugly story.”

“How do _you_ know he’s the Penguin?”

“Oh, he told me.” Louise said nonchalantly. “He took his mask off and all. He’s not actually secretive about it, it’s people who are too dumb to figure it out. See, they don’t want to think something like that became of Oswald. They’d rather think… He grew up fine.” she said, shrugging. “But he didn’t. And now he’s robbing banks and beating people up wearing a penguin mask. Not quite a model of mental health, if you ask me.”

“Which is precisely why we need him off the grid. He’s dangerous.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true.” Louise sighed with remorse. “But we have a plan regarding him. How are things looking on the Joker case?”

“Avesta’s on her own. She’s going to serve as Penguin’s mole. We want to take care of the clown as fast as possible.”

“This might actually work in Penguin’s favor, you know. Taking care of the Agency business… Waller might treat him lightly. Find a use for him.”

“I’ll decide whether I vouch for or against it after I meet him.” Charlie said. “I need to get close to him.”

“And I’ll tell you how to proceed, as soon as you order that pizza.”

They spent a nice evening together, actually; Louise turned out to be a pleasant company. She also told Charlie a number of little things about Oswald Cobblepot; he favors yellow ties, is fidgety, his favorite breed of the dog is Shiba Inu, he likes to cook.

“Apart from being a ruthless criminal, he’s actually a decent guy.” Louise summed it up as they were watching _Pride and Prejudice_. “I sometimes wonder how would he turn out if none of this bullshit ever happened to him.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know.” Charlie sighed. “But good. Help me humanize him. Stanislavski’s system and all that crap.”

“Oh, I’ll help you humanize the fuck out of him.” Louise assured him. “And trust me, he’s gonna eat you up. He’s a sucker for attention. Just talk about how much you dislike Bruce Wayne, Hamilton Hill and Carmine Falcone and you’re _golden_.”

“Noted. Anything else?”

“Nah.” Louise said with a shrug. “Just be yourself. Fake yourself, that is.” she corrected herself. “Describe me your persona, so I can tell you if it’s a good idea.”

“A fangirl.” Charlie replied hesitantly. “And very self-confident one, but still melts around him. A bit bossy. Wants to play with fire and claims to not be scared of getting burned. Disturbingly loyal.”

“Yup, this might actually work.” Louise said with a nod. “Just don’t be freaked out when he pulls out a knife in bed. Not saying anything _will_ happen between the two of you, but, just in case…”

“You’re going to walk me through his preferences.” Charlie said tiredly, feeling like this is the moment she regrets her decision. “Alright. Do it.”

“Trust me, I didn’t enjoy having this conversation with him either.” Louise scoffed. “But it’s your cross to bear now. Alright, so our bird mask freak likes to make people beg. He has a whole ideology attached to it. He also likes tying them up, and some slightly rougher stuff. Basically he won’t get angry if you bite or scratch him, just be prepared for him to bite back. Also I think he’s into choking, but I’m not sure on which side he’d rather be. Also, knives. He’s like that.”

“What kind of conversation were you two having?!”

“He gets very chatty very quickly.” Louise said with a shrug, finishing the last slice of pizza. “Alright, I think it’s time for me to go. The auction’s in a week. I’ll give you the exact time and location tomorrow. You just be there with your fat wallet and we’re good.”

“Sure.” Charlie said, feeling almost overwhelmed. “Thanks for your assistance. Really.”

“It’s no biggie.” Louise said shortly, putting her coat on. “That’s part of the job.”

And just like that she left and Charlie was left alone with her thoughts, an abundance of information from Louise and a bad feeling about this.

She called Flagg; he picked up right away.

“Agent. Any progress?”

“I worked out the plan with Louise.” she said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She gave me… A lot of additional info to work with. I’ll probably meet him in about a week.”

“A week? That’s… Fast. I was expecting a month.”

“Yeah, well, I arrived at just a perfect time to buy into his graces. The bad news is… It puts time pressure on Iman.”

“Or it doesn’t. Just tell him you’re _working_ on the Joker. That should be enough.” Flagg suggested. “I’ll send you some archival stuff you should know about for the sake of your little performance. Some photos, clips from the deep web… You know, stuff a psychofan would cherish.”

“Thanks, sir.” she said hesitantly, to which Flagg laughed and ended the call; she got the message shortly after that.

He attached plenty of files - photos, recordings, articles. Penguin had been a busy man, and definitely knew how to stand his ground; he was handy with a gun, _very_ handy with a knife and his uppercut was flawless. He had an expensive taste, and seemingly a vendetta against the Wayne family. Flagg’s mail also included some purely-Cobblepot stuff, just to make her seem a bit more obsessive; and Charlie begrudgingly admitted he’s quite handsome.

(Good. It’d make potential intimacy bearable.)

Flagg called her in the morning to inform her Waller got his report and approves of the plan to use the Penguin against the Joker.

“She says it’s risky, but all in all… A smart move. Just don’t be hasty and play your role.”

“Do you think I should do my normal voice?”

“Yeah, because what if in the heat of the moment you drop the act? Don’t overdo it. Don’t come up with too many details. No one remembers their entire life in perfect detail.”

“Yes, sir.” she sighed. “Any word from Avesta?”

“Chill out agent, not everyone’s progressing as fast as _you_ do.” Flagg said, amused. “It took us months to make contact with Black Mask. It’s a miracle an opportunity presented itself so quickly in your case.”

“A miracle _or_ Waller’s careful planning. Anyway, I’m going to charm the pants off the Penguin. And in the meantime… I have some obsessing and over-analyzing to do. Hey, can you check one thing for me?”

“Sure.”

“Are we tracking his online activity?”

“Not exactly, no. But our profilers had been collecting appearances that seem to follow his pattern of speech. I’ll send you a copy, but I gotta warn you: it’s nothing interesting. He makes his deals face to face.”

“Uh-uh.” she muttered, scrolling through the file. “Ha! Got it. He pops up from time to time on kink forums. Another object to the list… Check.”

“Hey, you’re right. Are you going to seduce him into folly, agent?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

***  
One week had passed; and no word from Avesta. Waller granted Charlie auction funds, and the agent spent the week studying Penguin as obsessively as only a true fan would be able to do. She learned the way he tilted his head when he was about to clock someone, the way his friendliness often masked grave danger, the way he was absolutely relentless in fight. GCPD almost got him once; but he got out of the handcuffs by dislocating his joints. He then proceeded to beat the hell out of the unsuspecting newbie watching him and used him as a bargaining chip to break free.

Finally the night of the auction came. Louise called her earlier that afternoon to inform her if everything goes right she’s going to meet the Penguin the very same night.

“I think I talked him out of showing up at the auction, but he’s impatient. He wants that ring… _Bad_. He’ll stop at nothing to get it.”

“It’s a good thing I’m going to give it up willingly then. As a token of deep admiration, and so on. Should I wear nice underwear?”

“You might want to, yeah.”

That was it! The fateful evening when her mission would truly begin. Shortly before leaving, she called Flagg.

“Report back in twelve hours, or I’ll notify the Agency. I’ll do it earlier if I get a signal. Send me a text with at least two emojis if you get in trouble. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then go and get that Oscar for lying in the face of grave danger.”

The auction was held in Falcone’s auction house, an old, gothic building hidden in the middle of a dark park. The gangster had an odd collection of mementos belonging to Gotham’s forgotten families; Charlie knew those are actually trophies, taken from the - more or less figurative - corpses of his enemies.

Louise was waiting for her outside the door, smoking.

“Won’t anyone question the presence of ADA in a mafia establishment?” Charlie asked, approaching her; Louise scoffed.

“Officially, Falcone has no ties to the mafia. Also I can simply pretend you dragged me along. You know. A newcomer, looking for thrills.”

“Smart.” Charlie muttered, looking around; she could see the mayor, a lot of people she didn’t recognize, a nearly bald man from last week-

“Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched.”

“Oh yeah, Schulz is here.” Louise said, not even glancing in his general direction. “Don’t mind him. He’s just looking anyway.”

An elegant, dark skinned woman with short hair briefly winked at Louise, who nodded back.

“Fish Mooney.” Louise said, after noticing Charlie’s puzzled look. “High ranked member of Falcone’s not-at-all-a mafia and Penguin’s friend on the inside. And the owner of Gotham’s best damn nightclub.”

“Nice. Think she could be useful?”

“Time will tell. Come on, let’s get inside, I think the fun’s about to begin…”

Louise was right - there weren’t many people eager to get their hands on Esther’s ring. In fact, except for Charlie only one person was bidding - a large, mostly bald man who looked like a Basset Hound.

“Salvatore Maroni.” Louise whispered to her between bids. “He’s an enigma no one had been able to crack.”

“I’ll worry about him later.” Charlie whispered back, and - after winning - did a little pantomime of joy and delight.

“Hell yeah!” she said, pumping her fist into the air. Louise sighed and rolled her eyes.

Maroni approached her as she was closely inspecting the ring; an elegant, skillfully crafted platinum creation with a piece of grandidierite.

“Congratulations.” he said gravely, looking at the ring rather than at her face.

“Thank you!” she said cheerfully, putting on her disguise. “You’ve been a formidable opponent, mister…”

“Maroni.” he said, briefly glancing at her. “And you are..?”

“Schiller-Aberdeen.” she said gracefully. “Of _those_ Schiller-Aberdeens.”

“I see.” Maroni said, absolutely not impressed. “I’ll see you around, miss Schiller-Aberdeen. Enjoy your victory.”

He heavily walked away, swaying the bottom parts of his body like a duck; Louise appeared next to Charlie, walking Maroni go.

“He’s an odd one.” she said, putting her hand on agent’s shoulder. “Also come on. Let’s go. Turns out Schulz was here to set up a meeting… Which I did.”

“Great.” Charlie said calmly, slipping the box with the ring inside her purse. “Where?”

“The docks, because where else? Meet me by the field office. I’ll say hi to Flagg and take you to the furry.”

“Does he know I’m coming? Penguin, I mean.”

“Yup. I told him about my old friend, who grew up to be a fan. He also knows what you look like, Schulz sent him a photo. We’re all set.”

“Great.” Charlie said, feeling the first wave of nervousness wash over her. “I’ll see you there.”

She stayed behind for a little bit; when she got to the docks Louise was waiting outside Agency’s warehouse.

“Oh good, I was worried you got lost.” she said as soon as Charlie got out of the car. “I talked to Flagg. He set up some surveillance around here, so we’re all good.”

“Alright, I’m ready.” Charlie breathed out, trying to calm down; why was she so nervous? She faced _Waller_. She could handle a criminal mastermind who’s been evading the law for years.

Louise nodded and took Charlie to the meeting place; another, more secluded warehouse, closer to the water.

“Smile, Charlie.” Louise whispered, opening the door. “Remember, you’re about to meet your idol.”

“So I’m nervous!” she whispered back. “It’s natural.”

“Penguin!” Louise called out, closing the door behind them; all lights were turned off and as soon as the door closed, the room went completely dark. “It’s us. Show yourself.”

“In a moment!” Charlie heard a muffled, slightly raspy voice coming from a far corner of the room. “Don’t move. Where’s that bloody light switch?!”

Charlie heard a quiet _thud_ as someone - probably Penguin - walked into something. The sound was followed by a quiet groan.

“Ah, clumsy, clumsy me… Oh! There it is.”

The lights turned on and Charlie blinked a few times, her eyes getting used to the bright light; and Penguin was standing right in front of her and Louise with his hands in his pockets, his face hidden behind his signature mask.

“Ladies.” he greeted them and Charlie stared at him, just the way a fan would do. “Had fun tonight?”

“No, it was boring.” Louise replied calmly. “Although my friend _did_ get her hands on something you’re after.”

“So I heard.” Penguin said, slightly turning his head in Charlie’s direction. “Charlie, right?”

“Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen.” she said stepping forward, keeping her head high. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, mister Penguin. I’ve been following your endeavors for… Quite some time now.”

The Penguin chuckled, took her hand and lightly brushed it with the underside of his mask’s beak; a mockery of a kiss.

“Charmed.” he said politely. “Now, as to what you have…”

“It’s an engagement ring.” she said, reaching into her purse. “That once belonged to Esther Cobblepot. And… I know you are her son.”

It was risky, but it worked; Penguin only tilted his head.

“Well, looks like someone _really_ did their homework on me.” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“I have lots of free time on my hands.” she said, opening the tiny box, where Esther’s ring was placed. “It’s yours.”

“And where’s the catch, hm?” Penguin asked, not moving. “What do you want in return?”

“It’s a token of appreciation.” Charlie said, trying to sound genuine.

“That’s very touching, beautiful stranger.” Penguin said and she smiled. “But nothing is free in this world. I know you want something. Come on. Ask away.”

“I want to see your face.” Charlie blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“Huh.” the Penguin said, sounding amused. “Yeah. That sounds fair, considering you managed to find out who I am.”

He took his mask off and Charlie stared in silence, at the scar running across the bridge of his nose, his scruffy jawline, narrow lips curled in a playful smile and dark circles under his eyes.

In real life he looked better than on a mugshot from his file or archival materials from Flagg.

“There.” he said, staring at her. “Not quite as impressive as my mask, I know.”

“On the contrary.” she said, not taking her eyes off him; she suddenly felt the urge to touch his stubbly chin, but fought it off; instead she handed him the ring, which he tenderly caressed and slid in his pocket.

“Thank you very much, Charlie.” he said, this time actually brushing the back of her hand with his lips. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He turned around and Louise nudged her in the ribs with her elbow. Charlie nodded.

“Wait!” she said, walking up to him. “This is not all I have to offer.”

“Oh?” he said, turning around to face her again; they were standing inches from each other. “Go on.”

“I’m rich.” she said, looking him in the eye. “Filthy rich. And my family has connections. I can get you anything money or handshakes can buy.”

“Mmmhmm.” he muttered absentmindedly. “Alright. Anything else?”

“I know you hate the Joker.” she breathed out. “I can get you his plans. Not in great detail and not all of them, but enough to tip the scales in your favor. I can help you take him out.”

“Now _that’s_ interesting.” he said with a satisfied smirk, nodding. “Sounds promising.”

He looked at Louise.

“Can she be trusted?” he asked.

“She’d walk into fire for you.” Louise said impassively and Charlie smiled, looking at Penguin tenderly. “She can be trusted. Plus… You _do_ need allies.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Penguin said, winking at Charlie. “Unexpected, but… Definitely a good one.”

“For both sides.” Charlie added, brushing her hair away from her face and Cobblepot snickered.

“Oh, yes.” he said quietly. “Yes indeed.”

“Come on.” Louise said, gently pulling her towards the exit. “Penguin, we’ll be in touch. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“You do that.” he said, not taking his eyes off Charlie, who - impulsively - blew him a kiss.

(He played along, pretending to catch it.)

“Well, that didn’t go terribly.” Charlie breathed out as soon as they were outside. “Or did it?”

“It went pretty damn well. He seems to like you. Or at least be into you.”

“Good.” Charlie said, thinking about the way he looked at her. “Or do you think he’s sensing a trap?”

“Nah, it’s genuine. Oswald’s a crap actor. He can’t keep a facade up for more than few minutes. That’s partially why he’s wearing that dumb mask.”

“Alright, I believe you. What now?”

“We’ll be in touch, I’ll let you know if he reaches out, or if he needs something… And maybe try to put some pressure on Avesta. You’re going to need something on the Joker soon. Oh, and one more thing. Be careful for the next few days, he’ll probably have his people follow you to make sure you’re legit. Act normal. Ignore them.”

“No, it’s probably a test.” Charlie muttered, checking the time on her phone. “I shouldn’t just ignore his men following me. I shouldn’t act like I’m dumb. Naive, yes - but I’m clever enough to find out his real identity.”

“God, I forgot the Agency tends to overcomplicate everything.” Louise sighed, waving her hand. “Fine, ask his men out for brunch if you want to, just be careful.”

Charlie got back to her hotel, let Flagg know how did the meeting go and that she’s in one piece - and then she contacted Avesta, who picked up after a long while.

“Finally!” Charlie said, sitting down on her bed. “I’ve been worried, Iman!”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy!” Iman said apologetically. “Getting used to the new life and so on. How are you doing?”

“Well, I’m back from my first meeting with the Penguin.” Charlie said and Iman gasped.

“Already?! That was fast!”

“Yeah, time’s on my side. But speaking of time… Did you find anything?”

“Except for the fact Joker apparently preys on social outcasts? Not really, no.” Avesta said with a sigh. “No sign of him for now, but then again… It’s been only a week. Patience is the key, and if that fails… There’s always good old copycat game. Surely that’ll get his attention.”

“Yeah, and will most likely lead to your death.” Charlie scoffed. “Save this as the last resort. I think I can manage for now. It’s not like I promised him blueprints of clown’s hideout.”

“...please tell me you didn’t actually promise him that.”

“...of course I didn’t. That’d be stupid, and I’m a very _smart_ agent.”

***  
The next few days were pretty uneventful. In her spare time, Louise was helping Charlie keep her cover up; which wasn’t particularly hard, because Charlie did come from a rich family. All Louise had to do was to introduce her to proper people - such as those Penguin had a vendetta against. Know your enemies, and such.

And frankly - in two of those cases… She understood. She knew his backstory; and she understood. But sins of the father are not sins of the child, and Bruce Wayne wasn’t to blame for what his father did; but the resentment, the anger - it was understandable. Not fully justified and definitely misplaced - but understandable.

And Bruce seemed to be blissfully unaware of what became of his childhood friend. Maybe for the better. There was no point in opening old wounds in hopes of finding something useful; Charlie already had nearly everything she needed. So all she did was smile and engage in a polite conversation and nod and giggle and hide her actual intelligence behind a shallow mask. It worked fine - no one took her seriously and no one cared about what’s under the surface, assuming there’s simply _nothing_ there.

And during those few days - Penguin’s men _were_ following her. Or rather: a man, the Skrillex-looking one, Tennyson. He’s been discreet, and keeping his distance - but he was there, following her on the street, from store to store. Because of this tail, she decided to not risk visiting the field office; there was simply too much at stake. Instead she decided to confront Tennyson, and convince him to back off.

It happened in a coffee shop one afternoon; he was sitting few tables away from her, pretending to be minding his own business - but she could feel his eyes on her, following her every movement. So eventually she picked up her coffee, walked up to his table, set it down and sat down, staring at him. Poor Tennyson looked as if he’s about to get a heart attack; but he didn’t make a scene. Instead he only cleared his throat.

“Hello, Tennyson.” Charlie said lightly, stirring her coffee. “You’ve been following me for a few days now. Found something interesting?”

“I’m not spying on you.” he muttered, looking down. “Boss says he trusts you, because… His _friend_ does. And she knows people. So it’s not a matter of trust.”

“Well, then _why_ are you following me?” she asked, resting her chin against the back of her hand. “I should mention… I’m not interested in _you_. I’m only interested in your _boss._ ”

(It was a bit startling, how easily this came out of her mouth.)

“What? No!” Tennyson protested. “I’m not a creep, miss. I’m following you, because boss asked me to.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, raising her eyebrows. “Shocking. Why did he do it?”

“Because you’re new to Gotham and he doesn’t want a potentially valuable ally to get in an accident.” Tennyson muttered and Charlie gasped quietly, still in the role.

“Oh, that’s very sweet of him.” she said with a blush. “But I don’t need it! I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”

(She was good with martial arts, very good with knives and improvised weaponry and decent with firearms.)

“But boss said-”

“Tell your boss…” she interrupted him. “That if he’s so concerned about my well-being… We can sit down and talk. Privately. I’m sure we’ll reach an… Agreement.”

“But-”

“No _buts_ , Tennyson.” she interrupted him again. “Now I want you to disappear and tell that handsome devil exactly what I told you. Word for word.”

“Even that part where you called him a handsome devil and told me you’re only interested in him?”

“ _Especially_ those parts. Now scoot.”

“...aight.” he sighed, finished his tea and got up. “Sorry for the trouble, miss.”

He nodded in her direction and left, fishing out his phone on his way out, most likely to call the Penguin.

Few minutes later her phone rang; it was Louise.

“What the hell, Charlie?” she asked as soon as Charlie picked up. “What the hell?”

“I have no idea what are you referring to.”

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing the whole _thirsting after the furry_ ploy?”

“Well, it’s too late to back out now.” Charlie sighed, thinking about Cobblepot’s handsome face. “Come on. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Worst case scenario… He’ll fall in love with you.” Louise said firmly and Charlie, who was just taking a sip of her drink, briefly choked.

“Excuse me?!” she said after a muffled coughing fit. “Say that again?”

“He’s clingy. Has emotional issues. Don’t show him too much affection, or else he’ll fall in love with you.”

“But that’d be good, right?” Charlie asked, unsure of what to make of this situation. “With love comes trust. And that’s what I’m after. His trust. So I can get him.”

“He’s _clingy_.” Louise repeated. “He won’t leave you alone. And once he gets like that… It’s game over for us. Alternatively, you’ll shatter his heart into a million pieces and he’ll be of no use to the Agency. He’s like that.”

“Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t fall in love with me.” Charlie said with a sigh. “It should be easy. I’ll keep it… Weird. And physical. I’ll make it weird for him to fall in love with me. Does it make sense?”

“Not really, but you do you. Just don’t screw this up. Or else Waller will make a purse out of your skin.”

“...she wouldn’t do that. Would she?”

“...oh, honey.”

***  
Penguin reached out to her one week later. As far as she was aware, no one was following her anymore, but she avoided the Agency’s hideout just in case; maybe his men got craftier, stealthier. And it’d be suspicious as hell for them to see her enter the warehouse; or even worse - someone would follow her inside.

No, she couldn’t afford that; so she stayed away, only contacting Flagg through daily phonecalls. On the plus side, it seemed like Iman is finally making some progress; not much - but progress nevertheless.

“I know he has people around the campus. I just need to make contact.”

“Do you have any idea who might it be?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few candidates. Did Penguin ask about Joker’s plans?”

“We haven’t spoke since we first met, actually. So you’re good. He _did_ issue me a secret bodyguard though… Or so the dude says.”

“Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope! All truth. The Penguin wanted me to be safe in Gotham, so he sent a man to look after me. Or he wanted to spy on me and Tennyson made it up in heat of the moment.”

“Wait, Tennyson? Archibald Tennyson?”

“Uh, maybe? He never gave me his first name. He looks perpetually disgusted and has the worst haircut.”

“Yeah, that’s Archibald! Charlie, Penguin sent his right hand man to tail you.”

“...huh.” she muttered, feeling uneasy; suddenly she heard a knock at the door. “Hold on, someone’s at the door. Coming!”

She left her phone on her coffee table and walked up to the door; but when she opened it there was no one outside, only a white rose with a note attached was on the floor.

“...oh my.” she muttered, picking the flower up and locking the door.

“Speak of the devil.” she said, picking the phone back up. “Someone just left me a rose and a note.”

“Oooh, classy!” Iman giggled. “What color? Rose, I mean.”

“Uhh… White.”

“Oooh, the color of a new beginning. And the note? What does it say? Is it handwritten? Perfumed?”

“Whoah, Iman!” Charlie said playfully, opening the note; it was both handwritten _and_ perfumed. Cobblepot’s cursive handwriting matched the smell of cologne in a strange, wholesome way. “...yes and yes.”

“Damn, girl, of course you got the gentlemanly one!” Iman sighed as Charlie was reading the note. “Well? What does it say?”

“It seems like Penguin wants to meet… Tomorrow. He gave me a place and time… And wants me to dress up nicely.”

“Do you think he’s going to ask about the Joker?”

“If he does that… I’ll distract him.” Charlie decided. “I’ll keep his mind off the Joker and off anything and everything.”

“Really? You’re going to blow him just to buy me more time?” Iman asked with disbelief and Charlie laughed in response.

“That’s not the way I’d put, but yeah. I’m willing to do that if it helps the case. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Alright then! You blow your furry and I’ll pressure my weirdos. Nothing can go wrong!”

Later that evening, Charlie decided to try and prepare herself for the inevitable - physical intimacy with the Penguin. It was obvious it’s going to happen sooner or later; she saw the way he looked at her and the short note spoke volumes. Sure, the rose wasn’t red, but maybe he simply didn’t want to be too cliche.

It wasn’t a terrible thought, having sex with him; hell, if it wasn’t for him being a criminal and her target - she’d probably enjoy the thought. He was handsome, and the list of things he was into was oddly compatible with her own; he was also dangerous and charismatic, adding this pleasant thrill to the mix. But what was going to happen wouldn’t be genuine; he was her target and she couldn’t feel sympathy for him.

***  
He felt alive.

The girl Louise brought to him - his _fan_ , as his attorney friend claimed - stared at him lovingly with those pretty, blue eyes he could get lost in and handed him his mother’s engagement ring, in exchange only asking for a chance to see his face. She seemed and sounded so genuine; and he’d know if she was lying. He had a way with people - after years of being a criminal he learned to read them like open books. And she _was_ genuine in her admiration, and the way she looked at his scar and her compliments and what felt like flirting. Was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell; he was too busy staring at her and the way her red locks brushed her cheeks and the way her black satin choker accentuated her neck.

She was beautiful; and when she offered her support - he couldn’t been happier. Sure, his financial situation was actually pretty good with all the bank-robbing and petty thievery he had done over the years - but this girl, this beautiful, young woman… Said she can get him some of the Joker’s plans. And most importantly - there was not a hint of doubt, not a single false note in her voice.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Some time after Louise and her friend - Charlie, her name was Charlie - left his hideout he called his friend on the force, detective Bullock - not quite a dirty cop, but also not quite a good guy. Bullock was a loyal - if slightly unhappy - helper; and as a detective he had an unlimited access to civilian files.

“What’s up?” he asked after picking up; he was talking with his mouth full. “An emergency?”

“I need you to run a background check on someone.” he said, trying to sound casual. “A new associate.”

“...alright.” Bullock said carefully. “Who is that?”

In the background, Oswald could hear Bullock’s fellow detective ask who is he talking to.

“I thought I have a lead in the Miller case.” the detective lied smoothly. “But it’s nothing.”

“So can you do this for me? Her name’s Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen. She’s a friend of Louise.”

“Look, I gotta go.” Bullock said quietly. “I’ll contact you.”

And he did - few hours later.

“Alright, here’s what I’ve got.” he said without a greeting. “First of all… Nice. She’s a beaut.”

“Yes Bullock, I do realize. Allow me to remind you you’re taken… And if you break Fish’s heart - I’ll break you.”

“...I just said she’s pretty, you dumbass, not that I want to marry her. Anyway. No criminal records, the only child, spoiled rotten. Master’s degree in English literature. Registered Democrat - and thank _god -_ single, her pop’s doing God knows what, her mother’s a surgeon. She stays at the Peak.”

“Single.” Oswald repeated and Bullock sighed.

“Well, she might be _engaged_ , you know. But she sure as hell isn’t married. Or divorced. Or widowed. Or in separation. Or-”

“I get it!” Oswald interrupted him. “No criminal record? Are you sure?”

“I checked twice, just to be sure. Clear as day. She’s either a good girl… Or nothing ever _went_ into her records. Know what I’m saying?”

“I’m going to ask her about it. Anything about her strikes you as… Odd?”

“Except for the fact she’s on your side? Not at all.” Bullock replied after a brief silence. “And, after some consideration… Even _this_ isn’t so weird. Rich kids always end up mixed up in some shit. Just don’t be disappointed if she changes her mind and decides to leave.”

“Oh, but she won’t.” he said, feeling very confident. “She won’t. Thanks, Harv.”

Next he called his right hand man - Archie, the most competent and loyal of them all.

Also the most unhappy one.

“It’s past midnight, boss.” he heard Archie’s tired voice, muffled groan of his fiancee in the background.

“Doesn’t matter.” Oswald said dismissively. “What _does_ matter, however, is the fact I have a task for you. A very important one. You listening?”

“Yeah.” Archie yawned.

“Good. I need you to tail someone for me - but rather than _spy_ on them, I want you to make sure this blasted city doesn’t turn her into mince.”

“Soo… To put it in normal people language… You want me to be someone’s bodyguard.”

“...yeah. I guess you could call it that. I want you to tail Louise’s friend. You know. The one who showed up recently.” he said, trying to sound casual. “Got it?”

“Yup.” Archie yawned again. “I’ll start in a few hours. I need my sleep, boss. I’m human.”

“Sure you do. Oh, and don’t take Schulz with you. He doesn’t know _shit_ about being subtle.”

“Says the man who wears a penguin mask.”

He spent the next few days working - heists to plan and one annoying clown to kill. Also, vengeance to be had. He was a busy man; and he threw himself into plans and schemes to not think about how soft Charlie’s skin was when he kissed her hand.

(And their eyes locked and he felt a shiver run down his spine.)

Archie called him a few days later; judging by the sounds, he was in the middle of a street.

“For your own good I hope everything’s fine.” Oswald said casually, walking away from a table covered in blueprints.

“Yes and no.” Archie said hesitantly. “She told me to fuck off.”

“Oh.” Oswald said, slightly taken aback. “So you were spotted. That’s bad, Archie. Really fucking bad.”

“That’s the bad news. I also have two portions of _good_ news, if you’re interested.”

“Good news is all I care about these days. Well, that and a number of other things. Shoot.”

“She’s alive, she’s fine, she’s in one piece. That’s part A. Now, part B is… Much more personal and frankly, makes me feel like I’m in highschool again.”

“Cut to the chase, Archie.”

“She said she’s only interested in you. She also called you _a handsome devil_. Now, if I were you - which luckily isn’t how the things are - I’d… Do something about it.”

“Wait. Hold on.” he said, trying to collect his thoughts. “Did she really say that?”

“Word for word, boss. Word for word.”

“Oh, that’s incredible!” he said, feeling alive. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed off at you for letting her _notice_ you and I’m probably going to yell at you once I see you, but this is some truly good news. What should I do?”

“Are you asking me for dating advice, boss?”

“Well, you’re _engaged_. I dare to say… You might be slightly better at this stuff than I am.”

“I say… Go for it.” Tennyson said carefully. “You could use a distraction. Shit, boss, do we really have to do this? I don’t want to be responsible for mess in your personal life as well.”

“And there goes your loyalty.” Oswald snickered, turning on the computer. “But I’ll take your advice.”

He got to work; he had some planning to do. A normal dinner at a normal restaurant was out of question for obvious reasons; but luckily the owner of Lafontaine’s owed him a favor, the _favor_ being the fact he kept Vicki Vale from publishing all the dirt she gathered on him. He decided the owner of one of the most prestigious restaurants in Gotham, favored by socialites, politicians and local celebrities might be useful, so he kept everything Vale got on the guy; and he was right. Monsieur Moreau _was_ useful, in all his cowardice that kept him from going straight to the police.

“I need an unlimited access to your VIP room and for the back door to be clear. No staff, no customers. Also I’ll need your best chef on duty.”

“Bien entendu, monsieur Manchot. Celebrating something?”

“The less you know the better for you.” Oswald said dismissively. “And remember, Moreau, don’t fail me. You know what happens to people who make the mistake of underestimating me.”

“Unfortunately I do.” Moreau said raspily. “I will not fail you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Next he called Fish Mooney.

“What can I do for you, boy?” she asked, yawning. “Need dirt on Falcone?”

“No, I’m good. Actually I call to ask if you still have those lace masks you told me about. I’m going to need one… In a week.”

“Well, that can be arranged. What are you planning, boy? A masquerade?”

“Something along these lines.” he said, checking another thing off the list. “I’ll send one of my men to pick it up. Oh, Fish, one more thing. Can you recommend me a florist?”

“Oh my god, Oswald.” Fish said with amusement. “Are you going on a date?”

“Mayhaps, dearest Fish. Mayhaps.”

“Oh, this is simply adorable. Are you going to give them a pretty pebble?”

“Oh, piss off, Fish.” he said, opening his drawer filled with stolen jewelry. “Hilarious. But anyway. The florist.”

“Well, Pamela Isley does sell flowers as a coverup for her money laundering business. Also drugs. But mostly flowers. And those are _exquisite_.”

“Who is she laundering money for?”

“Not Falcone, if that’s what you’re worried about. Now, unless you need something else-”

“No, I’m good, I’m good. Thanks, Fish.”

Lastly - he called Louise.

“What did I tell you about calling me when I’m at work?!” she hissed. “What do you want?”

“I’m going to ask your friend out.” he announced. “You know. Charlie.”

“...are you serious right now? You’ve met her exactly _once_.”

“Yes, and I want to get to know her… A little better. You know. To celebrate the beginning of a beautiful partnership. What wine does she like?”

“My god, you are a _disaster_.” she said, sounding almost impressed. “Also pink. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Well, you told me she can be trusted. Plus I know people. She has nothing to hide, she’s an open book… And in words of Archie - I could use a distraction. You know. Before I forget I’m human.”

“Not sure if one date’s enough to humanize you again, but alright.” Louise sighed. “Go for it. I’ll keep it a secret. Just… Don’t scare her away, alright? She’s… Alright, calling her _a good person_ is bit of a stretch, considering she joined forces with _you_ , but she’s still alright. Don’t be a dick to her.”

“Me? A dick? I would never!”

“...I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

***  
“Twelve hours.” Flagg told her. “Are you sure this is a good plan, agent?”

“This is the only plan I have.” she said, smoothing out her dress and briefly glancing at the phone. “Not many things can go wrong.”

“Have you considered there’s a chance he realized you’re an agent? You might die tonight.”

“If he realized I’m an agent, I might die any other day as well. Plus there’s no way he knows. I’ve been _ridiculously_ careful. I finished the training with top grades, after all.”

“Just be careful, agent. If this goes south I’ll take the fall. And I’d rather avoid that. Flagg out.”

Finally it was time for her to leave; one last time she looked at her reflection, checking if everything works. Nice pencil dress… Check. Flawless makeup… Check. Nice lingerie hidden under the black fabric… Check. She was ready to dazzle the hell out of Gotham’s most handsome villain.

(Why did she think that?)

She got there on time - and _there_ was a dark alley behind Gotham’s best restaurant. She could see someone standing with their back against the wall; she could also see the outline of the familiar, penguin mask.

“Mister Penguin.” she said, approaching him slowly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You came!” he said; he sounded excited. “Well, obviously, it’d be shocking if you _didn’t_ show up. No one stands the Penguin up… And lives.”

“Oh, but I’d never stand _you_ up.” she said, looking at him as tenderly as she could. “So. What’s the occasion?”

“There’s no occasion, I simply wanted to talk. Spend some time with you. Get to know you.” he said with a shrug and a cold shiver ran down her spine. “The owner owes me a favor and we have the VIP section all to ourselves.”

“Oh!” she said, genuinely surprised. “That’s very kind of you, mister Penguin, I’m flattered.”

“Please.” he said softly, pulling something out of his pocket. “Call me Oswald. In private, that is. In front of others… Penguin. Just Penguin.”

“Alright… Oswald.” she said as gently as she could; she nodded in the direction of a thing he was holding. “What’s that?”

“A mask for you to wear. Just in case.”

He handed her the mask; an intricate mass of lace, just enough to cover and turn attention away from her features. She put it on, tying the ribbon and not taking her eyes off Penguin.

“Ah, now I won’t see your lovely face.” he said, offering her his arm; she took it with a nod and squeezed lightly, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

Back of the restaurant was almost completely empty; only one man was there, Baptiste Moreau himself, the owner of Lafontaine’s.

“Monsieur Manchot.” he said as soon as they walked in. “Everything is ready, just the way you wanted. Please, follow me.”

“You know, Baptiste…” Penguin said as they were following the nervous owner. “I’m going to be very, very disappointed if we reach the VIP room and it turns out to be a trap. And I’ll get you, Baptiste. Even from prison.”

His voice was calm and relaxed, as if he was making a casual conversation. Moreau looked at him over his shoulder.

“Monsieur Manchot, s’il vous plaît… Save your threats. I would not betray you.” he said, opening the door; the room was cozy, windows were hidden behind heavy, velvet curtains and there were _candles_ on the table.

“Ooh, romantic.” she said, walking past Moreau who was holding the door open for them. “Ah. Merci.” she added with a flawless accent.

“Est-ce que vous êtes français?”

“Oh, non.” she said, shaking her head; Penguin - Oswald - snickered.

“The less you know about my companion the better for you, Baptiste. Besides… Your job here is done. Leave us. My man will take it from here.”

He sent Moreau away with a simple handwave; as soon as the door closed behind the owner he took his mask off and looked at Charlie with a weird spark in his eye.

“I’m afraid your mask has to stay on.” he said, pulling a chair out for her; she sat down, briefly glancing at his - slightly scarred, long-fingered - hands.

“Anything for you.” she said as he sat down at the opposite side of the table.

“Well, what I want… Is to talk.” he said calmly, looking at her attentively. “Get to know you.”

“Naturally.” she said breathlessly. “W-what do you want to know?”

“Everything you’re willing to share.” he said, still not taking his eyes off her. “How hungry are you?”

“I skipped lunch.” she said; she wasn’t lying.

“Then I will sacrifice myself for your sake and endure a six course meal, even though I hate fish. Do you like fish?” he asked, looking at her attentively and she knew this is a test.

“I do.” she said, deciding to not play the _mindless_ card. “But if the smell repulses you-”

“It’s not the smell.” he interrupted her with a faint glimmer of relief in his eyes. “It’s the texture. Also, that was a test.” he added, confirming her suspicions. “You passed. You’re not a mindless drone, blinded by admiration. That’s good. I don’t surround myself with people like this, they’re useless.”

“Even as pawns?” she asked and he scoffed.

“I don’t deal in pawns. The key to success… Is personal touch. You know. Knowing everyone by the name, their favorite color, birthday…” he said, resting his chin atop the back of his hand. “It creates a bond. A sense of obligation.”

He had a point; but something was telling her that’s not the whole story.

(Something in his eyes.)

“That’s true.” she said, thinking of how impersonal the Agency sometimes felt. “And I will _very_ gladly tell you about myself… As soon as I eat something. I’m starving.”

“Oh, right!” he remembered, picking up and handing her the menu. “First let’s take care of appetizers, or - as I call it - _horse divorce_.” he said, glancing at her; and she laughed and her laughter was genuine, not a part of her role.

“Oh, I need to make you laugh more.” he said. “A music to my ears.”

Against her own will, her cheeks turned red - but it was alright. It was in character.

Instead of a waiter, their food was served by one of Penguin’s men; for the sake of not revealing his identity to the kitchen staff, Sebastian also wore a mask, though it wasn’t as elegant as Charlie’s or as ostentatious as Oswald’s. He was quiet and nimble and watching him Charlie came to a conclusion he probably used to be a waiter.

And Oswald turned out to be a pleasant company; he was attentive, his jokes were funny and his gaze made her skin _tingle_. He only asked about her and her life, and none of them as much as mentioned the Joker or what her money could get him. He was charming, showered her in compliments - that actually sounded genuine, which was both nice _to her character_ and a bit concerning _to herself_ \- and somehow knew exactly what kind of wine does she like.

If it wasn’t for him being a criminal mastermind and for her being a secret agent sent out to ruin his plans and capture him it’d actually feel like a wonderful first date; and under her skin Charlie felt just that, even though she was doing her best to fight it off. She kept telling herself her feelings can’t be genuine, her positive emotions must be fake, because it was all just a part of the job - but deep, deep inside she was beginning to feel first cracks in her shell. And what was underneath… Wasn’t too much different.

“Do you treat all new associates to a dinner?” she asked frivolously, trying to push those thoughts away. “Or am I special?”

“Something tells me you already know the answer.” he replied playfully. “Do you consider yourself special?”

“Yes.” she replied instantly. “There is only one me. _Of course_ I’m special. Plus I’m attractive, smart and rich. That alone puts me on a cultural pedestal. Now, the question is…”

She paused for a moment and tilted her head.

“Am I special to _you_?” she finished. “Because you are to me, you know. I’ve spent months following breadcrumbs on the deep web to figure out who are you. I bribed people to get access to files and records.”

“”Do you consider yourself special to me, Charlie?” he asked, staring at her attentively; she didn’t look away, even though she wanted to.

“That was not a smart question to ask.” she said finally. “You barely know me. I’m the one who spent months studying you, not the other way round.”

“Maybe not months, but I _did_ ask my friend to check few things for me.” he said calmly and her heart stopped; did he _know_? Was it a trap?

“What did you find out?” she asked, trying to remain calm.

“That I can’t for the life of me figure out why would someone like you be so interested in someone like me. Happy childhood, master’s degree, rich social life… And yet here you are, dining with a criminal.”

He smiled.

“I’m fishing for compliments right now.” he added with a wink and a wave of relief washed over her body. “Am I your forbidden fruit?”

( _Yes_ , she realized. He was something she couldn’t have, not in this life. The thought of _wanting_ to have him - it didn’t scare her. It was a calm realization. Perhaps she was overdoing her role a bit. Perhaps it would pass.)

“No.” she said instead. “But you _are_ intriguing. Plus, everyone has some surprising interest. Something they deeply enjoy, despite the thing going against their image.”

“Well, would me being interested in you go against _my_ image?”

“Maybe a bit.” she said and he raised his eyebrows. “The media does paint you as a heartless monster. But I… Know the truth.”

“Of course you do.” he said softly and she recalled Louise warning her against making him fall in love with her. “You spent quite some time studying me. Did I meet your expectations?”

“Yes.” she said, against her better judgement. “The spell isn’t broken.”

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something - but he never did, because they were interrupting by Sebastian, who suddenly barged into the room.

“This better be important!” Oswald said sharply, turning around to face him. “What is it?! Did Moreau call the cops?”

“No! It’s the Joker, he’s here!”

“Shit!” Oswald cussed, instantly getting up. “Get me Schulz. Now!”

Sebastian ran off and Penguin put his mask back on.

“We’ll have to finish some other day, love.” he said, fixing the last strap. “My man will get you to safety.”

“But I want to stay!” she protested, just the way a spoiled brat would. “I can help!”

Just as she predicted, he shook his head.

“No.” he said firmly. “I don’t want this clown to know about you. The less he knows, the better for both of us. Schulz!” he said as his man walked through the door. “That took you long enough. Get her out of here, and do it quickly.”

“Sure.” Schulz said shortly and put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder; but she shook it off and quickly walked up to Penguin.

“Be safe.” she whispered, planting a quick kiss on the exposed part of his jaw.

She then left with Schulz; together they slipped past Joker’s men and reached the relative safety of her hotel’s back courtyard.

“So, how did your date with the boss go?” Schulz asked as she took her mask off and stuffed it into her purse.

“How do you know it was a date?” she asked, and Schulz scoffed.

“Maybe because he _told us_ it’s a date. I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but better don’t fuck with Penguin.”

“Or maybe I’m not playing games.” she said lightly. “Maybe I’m genuine.”

“Yeah. _Maybe_.” Schulz slowly repeated after her, still staring her down. “Anyway. I should probably go back and help out. And you go bask in luxury.” he added mockingly. “How comes boss didn’t want you to stay? Maybe _he_ doesn’t treat you seriously?”

“Oh, fuck off!” she finally snapped. “Look, buddy, I don’t know what’s your exact problem with me, but if I were you I’d think _twice_ before speaking to me like that. _Of course_ he’s serious. Who wouldn’t be?”

That was - more or less - the dumbest thing she have ever said, and before turning around and walking away Schulz smiled mockingly, leaving her with a burning feeling inside her chest.

What was going on with her? She couldn’t tell. Or: she could tell damn well, but didn’t want to admit it. She wasn’t born yesterday; she knew how a developing crush feels - and it felt just like _this_. To her, Penguin had been nothing but polite and charming - everything else she knew about him felt like a made-up story. That was the exact mindset the Agency tried to make her forget; but it felt like her training was for nothing. One evening spent with him, one dinner, a few candles and his smile, oh _god his smile and his eyes,_ a few compliments - and she was doubting herself and her task. Her integrity was in danger, and god knows what would happen if it wasn’t for the Joker. What if he’d kiss her?

(She was almost sad she dug out her nicest undies for nothing - _again_. Well. Third time’s a charm.)

It was probably just her act getting to her, nothing more; but she couldn’t stop thinking about the advice Louise gave her; was he seriously developing feelings for her, or was it all just an elaborate act to make her feel special, to allow him to get whatever he wants from her without a hassle?

( _Without a hassle._ Hah. That whole dinner was a hassle.)

***  
The night was going well - but then the fucking clown had to show up. How did he know Oswald’s going to be at Lafontaine’s was a mystery; but he showed up regardless - and ruined a perfectly nice… After short consideration, Oswald decided to call this thing by its name - date. It was a date.

Despite his - rather irrational, considering her behavior and the way she looked at him - fears she showed up; she was looking around uncertainly and for a short while he watched her from the shadows.

He actually felt _nervous_ \- in fact he was so nervous he accidentally implied he’d kill her if she didn’t show up. Those words were completely empty - he wouldn’t kill her. He’d probably drink himself to sleep and never try asking her out ever again, sure; but he wouldn’t kill her. He had a soft spot for her already - and it was getting worse by a minute, the more he listened to her and the more he looked at her. She laughed at his dumb, dumb joke and her laughter was genuine; her appreciation and affection were _genuine_ and _not based in fear_ and it left him dumbfounded. She wasn’t mindless in her sympathy; and he was about to gift her a lovely pair of benitoite earrings he stole one year earlier when they were interrupted by panicked Sebastian.

Oswald’s blood boiled in his veins, as he imagined all the things he’s going to do to that clown for interrupting a perfectly nice first date; he didn’t even get to _kiss_ her, just like he wanted to - he wanted to hold her face in his hands and lightly brush her cheekbones with his thumbs and look into her blue, blue eyes-

He came to a conclusion he’s getting sappy and soft - all because a pretty girl was looking at him in that special, soft way. And the gentle brush of her lips on the exposed part of his jaw burned like fire; it was light and tender and felt almost like a promise and left him wanting more. The art of seduction in a nutshell; and as she was leaving with Schulz - one of his most trusted and effective men - she looked at him over her shoulder, same way she did when they first met and she blew him a kiss.

His mind was preoccupied with his developing crush when he got to the main part of the restaurant; but the clown was already gone, only leaving bleeding Sebastian behind.

“What do you mean he’s _gone_?!” he asked angrily. “What, did he pop out for five minutes?!”

“It looks like it.” Sebastian said, visibly embarrassed. “He fired a few bullets, told a few lame jokes… And left. Sorry, boss.”

“That motherfucker.” Oswald muttered, kneeling down next to wounded Sebastian. “Where did he hit you?”

“The arm.” young ex-waiter groaned. “I’ll live, but I definitely need patching up.”

“I’ll get Crane.” Oswald replied, reaching for his phone. “That maniac owes me one. He’ll patch you up.”

He paused for a moment and carefully picked up an object lying nearby; a joker card, stained with Sebastian’s blood. He turned it in his fingers and groaned; the other side contained a message, short and messily scribbled down.

_Your turn. :)_

“So he wants to play.” he muttered, staring at the card. “Alright. I’ll play. Schulz!”

Schulz - who barely got back - walked up to them quickly.

“Cops are on their way. We should go.”

“Help Sebastian get up and follow me.” Oswald said, already on his way to the back exit, calling Crane while walking. “Come on, you pretentious fuck, pick up.”

Moreau tried to stop him, but Oswald simply pushed him away. Crane finally picked up.

“What do you want, Penguin?”

“I’m on my way to your downtown clinic. You’re going to patch my man up.”

“What makes you think it’s going to happen?!”

“Jericho.” Oswald said softly, getting into the car and taking his mask off; the police didn’t know what he looks like. He could roam the streets freely.

“Fine.” Crane groaned, as Schulz and Sebastian got in as well; Sebastian was bleeding all over the backseat.

“Good boy.”

“Hey, boss.” Schulz said as Oswald put his phone away. “I’ve got a question.”

“Then ask.” Oswald said; they were driving past the Peak and Oswald glanced at the building.

“How do you know she’s not Joker’s mole?” Schulz asked and Oswald smiled coldly.

“I know people, Schulz.” he said calmly. “She’s not a mole. Now, as to what exactly is her role in all this… Is none of your business. Were you nice to her?”

“Perfectly nice.” Schulz said and Oswald knew he’s lying, that he probably acted like an asshole.

“One day your lies are going to be your undoing, Schulz.” he said. “If you made her cry I’m going to rip your head off.”

Schulz scoffed, but didn’t say anything; good. If he did, it wouldn’t end well for him.

After the whole ordeal with patching Sebastian up was done with Oswald found himself back in his hideout, in front of a giant map of Gotham. He stared at it, trying to figure out where exactly might be the clown hiding, like he did many times before; but to no avail. The Joker was elusive, and no one knew where to look for him; he had no allies for Oswald to interrogate, no weak spots to stab.

(Allies are important, but can be used as a weakness; Oswald learned that the hard way. That’s why he kept the identities of his associates a secret - for the most part. Now three of his men and two people outside of his pack knew about Charlie.)

His people didn’t know anything; he asked them multiple times. Nicely. And not so nicely. No one knew anything; but he was determined to get his answer. The Joker wanted to play - and Penguin was going to show him exactly what happens to people who mess with his plans, even as prosaic as a date.

He went outside, to get a breath of fresh air; at this time the docks were empty and the silence was only interrupted by ever present hum of the Gotham River. It was a chilly night, and the sky was cloudless and full of stars; the moon was in its first quarter.

Soon Oswald was joined by a man he was seeing in the docks from time to time - a harmless, middle-aged weirdo named Dick. He was probably homeless, holed up in one of many empty warehouses around; Oswald had to admit, it took some courage to use docks as a living spot. The place had bad reputation, and for a very good reason - it was _the_ place where most of Gotham’s shady deals were taking place. Be in the wrong place at the wrong time - bang, you’re dead. But somehow, Dick managed to avoid this fate - and he was now standing silently next to Oswald, staring at the airport lights on the other side of the water.

“Nice night.” he said eventually and Oswald glanced at him. “Calm.”

“I’ve heard the Joker shot up a restaurant uptown.” Oswald said, his eyes focused on the lights again. “So that calm is fake.”

Dick spat on the ground.

“That clown.” he said, his voice filled with disgust. “I can’t wait for someone to put a bullet in his head.”

“Yeah.” Oswald said, his eyes still transfixed on the horizon. “Me too.”

“You sound tired.” Dick said, leaning against the rusty crash barrier in front of him and turning his head to look at Oswald. “Long day?”

“You could call it that.” Oswald sighed, taking the same position. “My date got interrupted.” he said without thinking; why was he suddenly opening to this weirdo?

“Then finish it another night.” Dick said, shrugging. “Things get interrupted all the time.”

“Yeah. I might do that. I think she’d like that.”

“Oh, so it’s a she? You got yourself a lady?”

“We’re… Working on it.” Oswald said carefully. “But I think we’re on the right track.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Dick said, taking a step back and stretching. “Give her my regards. Is she nice? Pretty?”

“Very.” he said, thinking of her laughter and eyes.

“That’s also good to hear.” Dick said, turning around and walking away, his back crooked, his hands in his pockets.

Oswald stayed there for a while, looking at the horizon, listening to the city and the river flowing through it.

***  
Louise called her in the morning.

“I heard what happened at the restaurant. What was the Joker looking for?”

“No idea.” Charlie sighed. “I haven’t heard from Avesta in a while, and the clown decided to shoot up precisely the restaurant _I_ was in… Don’t you think it’s suspicious?”

“The Agency doesn’t believe in coincidences. Do you think Avesta ratted you out?”

“No, she wouldn’t do that.” Charlie stated. “Maybe Joker has a mole? One of Penguin’s men told me everyone knows it’s a date.”

“Well, if the clown has a mole among Penguin’s men, then I’d be careful if I were you. Maybe he’ll come after you. To hurt his enemy.”

“Are you implying I became Oswald’s weak spot? After one date? An unfinished one?”

“Oswald, huh?” Louise asked after a brief pause. “Not _Penguin_?”

“...I’m in character.”

“No, you’re growing fond of him.” Louise stated firmly. “I can hear it. You _like him_ , don’t you?”

“The key to lying is to at least partially believe in your own lie.” Charlie protested faintly. “It’s all an act, alright? He’s a criminal. A menace. And I’m going to bring him down.”

“But would you like him if he _wasn’t_ a criminal?”

“It doesn’t matter! _Ifs_ don’t matter. Only the reality does.”

“And the reality is you’re conflicted. You don’t want to like him - but you do. Did he make you laugh? Make you feel beautiful? Special?” Louise pursued relentlessly and Charlie groaned; right. She was an attorney for years now. She knew how to read people, the Agency taught her that - so reading a rookie agent, fresh out of training couldn’t be very hard. Maybe she heard doubt in her voice. Maybe she heard something in the way Charlie spoke Penguin’s name.

“Will you report me if I say _yes_?”

“No.” Louise replied. “Your feelings are your own business, as long as you don’t compromise the operation. The truth is… Every agent had been in this situation at least once. They got attached to their target. They saw their target in a different light, and not through their character’s eyes. They grew fond of the monsters they were chasing. It happens to the best of us. Everyone has to go through this heartbreak. It hardens us.”

“Does it mean I can vent to you?”

“Well, it’s better for you to vent than to internalize it. Internalized crushes tend to mutate into obsessions. Is your character obsessed with Penguin?”

“Obsessed? No, she’s not obsessed. Interested, infatuated, sympathetic… But not obsessed.”

“You just described your own feelings, didn’t you?” Louise asked softly. “Oh, Charlie.”

“Fine!” she groaned, rubbing her forehead. “I like him even though I shouldn’t, alright? He’s nice, he’s handsome, he’s so blatantly into me it’s kind of adorable… Taking him in will be super hard for me.”

“Or maybe you just want to bang him.” Louise suggested casually. “Have you considered that? That it’ll pass once you bone?”

“Ooh, that’s a good possibility. I’m going to hold onto it. It works for hormonal teenagers, why wouldn’t it work for a stressed out secret agent?”

“See? That’s the spirit. Oh, I gotta go. Work. Bye!”

Louise hung up before Charlie asked her how can _she_ contact Penguin directly if she needs to. Not like she wanted to; for now she wanted to maybe stay away from him for a few days, collect herself, meditate, maybe go to a party or two. She tried to call Avesta, but her phone was off; again. It was getting worrisome - even Flagg hadn’t heard from her in a few days.

“She told me she has go off the grid for the sake of the chase for a few days, but you’re right, this _is_ weird. Eh. Waller won’t be pleased.”

“This is getting complicated.” Charlie muttered, wondering what now. “Do you think Joker got her?”

“If that’s the case, we would know by now. He’s not exactly the subtle type. He’d send out a message… Just the way he did last night.”

“Yeah, but the question is if the message from last night was for us, or for Penguin. There’s no telling what’s going on in Joker’s head and what does he know.”

“Waller’s going to be _pissed_. Are you certain your cover isn’t blown?”

“Positive. Penguin doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Let’s make sure it stays that way.”

***  
He paid her a surprise visit few days later, under the guise of needing her help with robbing a fundraiser; she seemed eager to help when the Joker showed up, so he assumed he can as well count on her assistance in this case - but the true reason behind his visit was way more prosaic. He simply wanted to see her; after all their date was cut short and he didn’t even get a chance to steal a kiss from her, like he originally planned.

(Oh, he had it all planned; a quick kiss, a wink, a courteous farewell - but all he got was a quick brush of her lips on his jawline and a burning feeling that didn’t go away.)

He dressed up nicely, to not arouse suspicion at the hotel she was staying at; he was well aware elegantly dressed men who seem to know what they’re trying to achieve have no problems with being let in into places they shouldn’t be. The oldest trick in the book - fake it till you make it.

He loved wandering through the streets of Gotham, well aware the passersby have no idea who he is; without his mask he was just a random, forgettable stranger, and not a menace looming over the city. It was refreshing.

On his way to the hotel, he stopped by one of Gotham’s many bakeries; his date got interrupted before they got to dessert.

(Yes, Oswald Cobblepot was buying sweets in a bakery on his way to visit a girl who was probably going to assist him with a heist. Life’s like that sometimes.)

He bought a bit of macarons, biscotti and meringues; and the money he paid with was stolen and the girl behind the counter was none the wiser.

“Going on a date, mister?” she asked, putting his sweets into a paper bag.

“Kind of.”

“Ah. Figures. The flower shop on the other side of the street is good, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, taking the change. “Getting paid for advertising it, Donna?”

“No, my brother’s working there.” she said with a smile and he laughed.

(He ended up buying a red rose there, just because he felt like it and because the color reminded him of her hair.)

As he was entering the hotel building, he faked a phone call. “Yeah, I’m here, I’ll be with you in a minute!” he said, nodding in the general direction of the receptionist, who paid no attention to him; after all he looked like he _should_ be there. Bullock gave him her apartment number, so he didn’t have to ask any questions; few minutes later he was in front of her door. No sound was coming from behind it, and he suddenly realized this might not be a good idea; after all he didn’t even ask if she wants to see him. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she decided that after all he’s not from her.

He knocked hesitantly and she opened few moments later, wearing only a fluffy bathrobe and a pair of slippers.

“Oh my!” she said as he stared at her messy hair and flushed face. “Did we have a date?”

“We did, actually.” he said, admiring her freckles and wondering what was she doing before he showed up. “Few days ago.”

“...you know what I mean.”

“Of course I do. Can I come in?”

“Sure!” she said, letting him in and closing the door behind him. “I’m glad I didn’t have any plans for today. I’d hate to miss out on you.”

“Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?” he asked, looking at her rosy cheeks; her face turned even redder.

“I’m glad you’re in one piece.” she said, instead of answering his question. “Are you sure coming here was a good idea?”

“Relax, no one knows what I look like.” he said with a shrug. “Blessed anonymity. Also, this is for you.” he added, handing her the rose. “Red like your hair… And your face.” he added; her fingers were trembling slightly. “Are you… Alright?”

“I just need a moment, that’s all. What’s in the bag?”

“We were interrupted before the dessert, so… I’m fixing that.” he said, shaking the bag slightly. “Baked goods. It’s not crème brûlée or red velvet or pavlova, but… It’ll do.”

“Damn right it will, I have a sweet tooth.” she said with a smile, reaching for the bag; he instinctively lifted it up, holding it above her head.

“Not so fast.” he said with a smile as she scoffed and stood on tiptoes, trying to reach. “Go put that rose in a water.”

“It’ll wither anyway.” she said, still trying to reach the bag. “I have a much better idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm-hm.”

She suddenly grabbed him by his jacket and pulled down; rose petals brushed his cheek as she kissed him, and there was some strange desperation in that kiss, some odd longing; but her lips were so soft and her breath tasted like raspberry toothpaste and he kissed back instantly.

But that was merely a distraction; she quickly yanked the bag out of his hand and ran away, laughing like crazy and he followed, fixing his tie.

“Want to play dirty? Fine, I’ll play dirty.” he said calmly, looking into the living room; but she wasn’t there.

“Is that a threat?” he heard from the bedroom; she was talking with her mouth full judging by the sound of it.

“Oh, it depends. Do you want it to be a threat?”

“Maybe so!”

She was sitting on the bed, staring at him with her head tilted, and his precious bag was nowhere to be seen and he laughed, leaning against the doorway.

“I have to say, your methods of seduction are one of a kind.” he said finally.

“Well, are they working?”

“I’ll give you an answer in exchange for a biscotti.”

“And I’ll give you a biscotti in exchange for a kiss. How’s that?”

“Well.” he said. “Looks like I’ve got no choice.”

He walked up to her bed, barely believing in what’s going on, but not questioning it - the lickety split pace of this odd relationship felt right, somehow.

She grabbed the fabric of his shirt again and pulled him in and kissed him and her lips and breath tasted like hazelnut macarons and coconut biscotti.

“I lied.” she whispered into his lips. “I can’t give you a cookie. I forgot where did I put them.”

“Then let’s try to refresh your memory.” he said equally quiet, untying his tie and then the belt of her robe; she smiled and kissed him again and unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her hands across his skin, gently caressing his scars.

Her body was soft and sensitive and he wanted the moment to last forever, as he was kissing her breasts; unfortunately her phone rang as he was sliding his hand between her thighs, listening to quiet gasps and moans escaping her lips.

“I have to take this.” she muttered, reaching for her phone; in response he only groaned and moved his lips onto her neck.

“What?” Charlie said slowly, trying to focus on her call. “What?”

He pinched her nipple lightly and she bucked her hips, trying to be quiet. He snickered quietly and dragged his teeth across her neck, causing her breath to become shaky.

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” she said, running the fingers of her free hand through his hair. “Be careful.”

She put her phone away and he raised his head and looked down at her.

“My friend…” she said slowly, writhing slightly. “Take this hand away, alright? I can’t focus.”

“Fine.” he sighed theatrically, taking his hand away. “I’ll be good now.”

“For some reason I doubt it, mister Penguin.” she said with a smile, stroking his face with her fingertips. “But I’ve got some good news for you.”

“Well, I’m all ears.”

“My… Friend found out what place is the Joker using as his hub.” she said and Oswald froze in place, his eyes transfixed on her face.

***  
He showed up at either the best or the worst moment possible; she had a well-deserved day off from everything and everyone, just her, the luxuries of her apartment and mindlessly switching between shows on Netflix. She had to charge her mental batteries a bit; she had to come to terms with her emotions.

She felt sympathy for Oswald Cobblepot; it was out of place and kind of scary and definitely disturbing. She only saw two options she held tightly onto; either she really wanted to have sex with him - which was a plausible option and she was not at all ashamed of wanting to get into this wanted criminal’s bed - or the spell would be broken once she saw him the way she knew him from the files - violent, ruthless, dark. After all, he had blood on his hands; but there was something in his eyes, something irresistible, something drawing her in.

And it was this _something_ she was thinking about during her day off; against her better judgement she let her thoughts wander in the direction of the unavoidable, in the direction of light caresses and kisses and desperate want.

It took her a moment to realize someone’s at the door; someone had truly impeccable timing, knocking as she was indulging herself, hoping to relieve some of this weird tension and longing she was feeling. For a moment she considered ignoring the intruder and carrying on; but her common sense took the better of her and she wrapped herself in her bathing robe and opened the door, the memory of her own touch still fresh on her skin.

Was she hallucinating? No, he was really there, just outside the door, looking impeccable and holding a rose and a paper bag from the nearby bakery. One more time she wished they were both in a better, happier timeline where she wouldn’t have to lie; the way he looked at her made her feel as if they were _made_ for each other, as if all puzzle pieces fell into place.

She kissed him that day, under the guise of stealing sweets from him; but the truth is, she was just really in the mood and wanted to feel his hands on her. She wanted the inevitable to happen as fast as possible; to be able to put those horrific feelings behind, to get lost in his touch only to find herself again.

His lips on her skin felt right, and so did her fingers on his scarred, warm skin; she wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him closer, closer, _closer_. She wanted the moment to never end, and for Oswald to replace his nimble fingers with his silver tongue; and she was about to say it when her phone rang. It was Avesta - she had to take this one, no matter how badly she wanted Cobblepot to pull her panties down with his teeth.

(He wasn’t making anything easy for her, and her body responded to his every touch; she kept the moans inside of her, her thoughts drifting away again and again and again.)

But what Avesta had to say brought her back to Earth quickly and effectively - her fellow agent managed to find one of Joker’s safe spots in Gotham, an East End club named - quite ironically - Carousel.

Duty called; so she told Oswald about the club, gently stroking his scruffy face, feeling the warmth of his skin under her fingers. The feeling - sympathy, attraction, longing - didn’t go away, his kisses and gentle bites didn’t scare it away; she wanted that moment, that tiny vignette to last forever, just them and their warmth. She wanted the outside world to disappear, leaving only them and that weird, not entirely true thing between them.

But the outside world still existed and Oswald froze after hearing the news.

“Are you sure?” he asked finally.

“Dead sure.”

“Bloody hell.” he muttered, getting up. “I talked to the owner once. He swore on his mother’s grave he didn’t even _see_ the Joker. I tried threats, I tried promises… That fucking liar. Wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out his mother isn’t even _dead_.”

“What now?” she asked, rolling onto her side and watching him put his shirt back on. “You’re leaving? What about _me_?” she asked mournfully and he laughed, reaching for his abandoned tie and stuffing it into his pocket.

“We’ll finish another time. Actually…”

He paused for a moment, looking at her; she anxiously brushed her hair away from her face.

“Come with me.” he said finally and she blinked a few times. “That’s right. Come on. Get dressed. We’re going to repay the clown in kind for interrupting our date.”

“Why the change of mind?” she said, not moving. “You didn’t want me to stay last time. Why do you want me to come?”

“Because I’m going to keep an eye on you.” he said, putting his jacket back on. “Also there’s a matter of you wanting to let out some steam. I would hate to see you explode.” he added with a grin and she laughed, getting off the bed.

“Alright, I’m game. I want some action.”

“Perfect.” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Get dressed, pick something nice.”

“ _All_ my clothes are nice.” she said, opening the closet. “Give me a minute.”

“Don’t bother with makeup.” he said as she disappeared in the bathroom. “Just brush your hair. We’ll be wearing masks anyway.”

“Masks?” she asked, putting on one of her favorite dresses; black, with a circle skirt, a Queen Ann neckline and a sewn-in bra. “Makes sense.”

She quickly brushed her hair and left the bathroom, walked up to Oswald and turned around.

“Zip it up.”

“I’d rather be doing this the other way ‘round, you know.” he said, zipping her dress up and she laughed. “Or was that too forward?”

“I’ve always dreamed of getting into a tempestuous affair with a criminal. Infatuation at first sight, surreptitious kisses, partners in crime, two souls feeling like they are one and the same… Living the dream.”

“Well put.” he said softly, as she was putting her shoes on; black, studded Louboutins. “Does it mean you’re really going to stick around?”

“I moved to Gotham specifically for a chance to meet you.” she said, picking the room key up from the nearby table. “And what I got… is surpassing my wildest hopes. Of course I’m going to stick around.”

(The last thing was almost painful to say.)

“That’s even better to hear. Come on. Time to cement this… Thing, whatever it might be.” he said and she nodded.

They took her car; Charlie was driving. Oswald called his right hand man and told him to get everyone to the hideout in the docks; he sounded serious.

“So what’s the plan?” Charlie asked as he turned his phone off.

“We’re going to gear up and then we’re going to wreck the Carousel.” Oswald said calmly. “The Joker wants to play, and I’m going to send him a message. _Don’t fuck with Penguin_.”

“And what if he retaliates?”

“Oh, but he will. We’ve been doing this for months - except this time I’m going to put an end to this. When the chance arises - and I know it will - I’m going to kill the Joker.”

“That sounds chilling.” she said with a smile. “Love it. I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.”

“Tell me about my mole among Joker’s men. “Oswald said suddenly. “Who are they? Why do they want to help me?”

“They don’t want to help _you_ , they want to help _me._ ” she corrected him; a cold shiver ran down her spine. “We’re good friends, we go way back… And they owe me one. So they decided to repay the favor by helping me get into your good graces. You know. Like friends do.”

Oswald laughed.

“Oh yes, this is a true meaning of friendship - repaying a debt by helping you steal the heart of Gotham’s menace.”

“So I stole your heart, huh?” she asked, her heart beating unsurprisingly fast; Louise’s words ringed in her ears. “Jackpot.”

“Remind me to thank Louise for introducing us. Gotham’s very own Cupid.”

Penguin’s men were waiting for them in the warehouse; Tennyson did manage to get every one of them, even Sebastian whose arm was healing well.

“What is _she_ doing here?” Schulz asked as soon as they entered. “Does she think it’s a game?”

“She’s under my care, Schulz.” Oswald said calmly, pulling out blueprints of the Carousel building; thanks to Louise’s friends at mayor’s office he had copies of blueprints of most - if not all - buildings in Gotham. “Also her friend’s our informant. So lay off her and do your job.”

“I can take care of myself.” she added, as insolently as she only could. “I practiced self defense for years.”

“Ever played baseball?” Oswald asked, handing her a bat, wrapped in barbed wire.

“No, but I know how to swing a bat.”

“See?” Oswald said to Schulz. “Relax, Schulz, have some faith in my decisions. It’s just a surprise visit anyway, not a meticulously planned operation. Now, speaking of planning…”

The plan was as simple as it gets - they show up, they enter through the back door (secured with a chain, but it was nothing they couldn’t deal with), they kick the people out, they wreck the place, they leave. No bloodshed, if possible; just destruction.

“Alright. Take your masks and meet me in the back alley in thirty.”

“I don’t have a mask.” Charlie said hesitantly, to which Oswald nodded.

“I know, I remember. Try this on.” he said, handing her one; it was smaller than his and was obviously modeled after a seal’s head. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his men take their masks; each resembled a different animal. There was an ox, a mongoose, an alligator; a wide array of animals - but only hers in any way matched his iconic penguin one.

“Let’s just adjust those…” he muttered, helping her with the straps. “Looks like it fits.”

“It does.” she said; her voice was muffled and slightly distorted. She took the mask off and looked it in the eye.

“They were being sold as a set.” Oswald said, shrugging slightly. “Ready?”

“I was _born_ ready.”

***

It went almost flawlessly.

At that part of day - early afternoon - the club was almost empty; and the owner trembled in fear, begging Penguin for forgiveness and to not wreck his local; but in vain. Oswald was feeling vengeful and relentless that day; and at his sign the destruction had begun. Surprisingly, smashing furniture with a baseball bat turned out to be enjoyable; same case with flatscreens and music players and the bar.

“Enjoying yourself?” Oswald asked, as she was destroying a set of chairs and ripping posters to shreds at the balcony.

“Yeah!” she replied; the voice-altering device inside her mask hid her surprise. “What did the guy have to say?”

“Well, he claims the clown is no friend of his, but…”

He paused for a moment and shrugged.

“But he _did_ lend his place to him, so I don’t believe a word he’s saying. Piggsy and Owl are now squeezing the truth out of him.”

“Torture?” she asked, trying to feel appalled or disgusted; but to no avail. She felt… Nothing. The fact Penguin was directly responsible for a man being tortured - didn’t make her feel _anything_.

(At least nothing negative; with a shiver she realized she’s kinda into it, the fact she’s involved with someone as cruel as him. He was terrible, and a monster - but his lips on her neck felt like a revelation, rather than a curse.)

“A friendly conversation.” he said carelessly. “You’re pretty handy with that bat, I’m almost afraid of you.”

“What can I say?” she said, smashing a glass table. “I like it rough.”

He laughed, walked up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“I’ll remember.” he promised her quietly.

And that’s when everything went to shit.

“Boss!”

Tennyson - wearing a mongoose mask - ran up to them.

“What?” Oswald asked impatiently.

“The Joker is here!”

“Shit!” Oswald cussed, pushing Charlie down. “Quick, get down before he sees you!”

She dropped onto her stomach, feeling… Not afraid - but alive. The adrenaline, the thrill, the Joker’s voice coming from downstairs - it was exciting.

“Get her out of here.” Oswald quietly said to Tennyson. “Her car’s parked nearby.”

“But what about you?!” Charlie protested; he only shook his head.

“I’ll manage.” he said, cocking his gun. “But your concern is touching. Now get your ass out of here, I still want to finish what we started earlier today.”

“Be safe.” she whispered and - slowly, carefully - got up and followed Tennyson.

They stayed out of sight and almost managed to sneak out; but then one of the Joker’s thugs noticed them.

It was a split second decision, and Charlie decided there is no other way; her barbed bat clashed against his head, killing him instantly. His brain tissue and blood splattered around and his corpse fell down with a hollow thud.

“Christ.” Tennyson muttered as she stood there, her hands shaking. “Remind me to add you to the list of people I don’t want to piss off. You’ll be number two, right after boss.”

“Thanks.” she said faintly, feeling like she’s about to throw up. “Come on. Let’s move, before more of them shows up.”

“Good idea.”

Behind she could hear gunshots, and her heart stopped.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“Who, boss? Of course he’ll be fine, he’s indestructible.”

“He better.” she muttered. “I only just met him. I don’t want this relationship to end through premature death.”  
“Relationship, huh?’ Tennyson said after a short pause. “So are you and boss-”

“That’s what I’m trying to accomplish, yeah.” she said against her better judgement; that was what she was supposed to avoid. Emotional attachment. She had no idea where this thing is going, but one thing was certain: it’s going to end badly “Alright, I think I’ll manage on my own. Thanks, Tennyson.”

“It’s Archie.”

He turned around to get back in the fight, but she stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell your boss to come to me.” she said quietly. “Tell him… I’ll be waiting.”

“Will do. Take care, Red.”

She hid the bloodied bat and her mask in a trunk of her car and drove back to the hotel. She considered calling Flagg to report her progress and to give him a list of names of Penguin’s men; but she didn’t. For a little longer she wanted to pretend this is all real, not an act. For a little while longer she wanted to pretend she’s a spoiled, rich kid playing with fire and spiraling down, and not an agent, trained specifically for this sort of thing.

Oswald came to her a few hours later, in evening hours; the doors to her apartment were unlocked and she was lying on the sofa, wondering if this truly is the direction her life should be taking. She could feel herself slipping; and the truth is, she never really cared about the Agency’s _mission_. It meant nothing to her.

Perhaps she simply put herself on the wrong side of the conflict. Perhaps she wasn’t slipping; perhaps she was simply coming to an unwelcome realization.

The sound of doors opening and closing brought her back to Earth and she sat up, looking in the direction of the entrance; Oswald was there, his hair a mess and his clothes stained with dried up blood - but he seemed unharmed.

And unhappy.

“Oh my god, you’re alright.” she said, and her relief was genuine. “I was so worried when I heard the gunshots-”

“They got Sebastian.” Oswald interrupted her. “He’s dead.”

She covered her mouth and looked at him in shock.

“I’m so, so sorry.” she said finally and he sighed. “But if it makes you feel any better… The Joker now has one thug less as well.”

“I know.” he said, walking up to the couch and slowly sitting down next to Charlie. “Tennyson told me. You killed him in one hit. I’m… Impressed.”

“i told you, I can take care of myself.” she said quietly. “Also I was scared and very, _very_ tense.”

He laughed quietly and shook his head; impulsively she leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I am sorry about Sebastian.” she whispered; her lips were gently brushing his skin.

“It happens.” he said equally quietly. “At least he went out quickly. I’m more concerned about the fact that clown yet again… Knew where and when to find me.”

He looked at her and his eyes were dark; but after a moment he sighed and shook his head.

“I know you’re not the mole.” he said and her heart felt heavy. “I can’t explain it, I just… Know it. You’re not the mole.”

“Of course I’m not the mole.” she said softly, getting up from the couch; her shirt hung loosely on her, curving slightly on her small breasts. “Stay here. I’ll… Make you some tea. And then maybe take a shower.”

But he didn’t stay on couch; instead he followed her quietly, just as she hoped he would.

“I don’t want any damn tea.” he said finally, standing right behind her. “I want to finish what we started, you tease.”

“Well.” she said quietly, turning around to face him and dried up blood on his clothes and dark echoes of violence in his eyes and death in his smile. “What are you waiting for?”

He pushed her against the wall and she gasped in surprise; he held her hands and kissed her deeply, possessively, desperately. In his breath she could taste cigarette smoke and whiskey; but he wasn’t drunk, he was perfectly sober.

He broke the kiss and she opened her eyes; her cheeks were flushed and she could feel the warmth and tension building up in her body again.

“Kiss me again.” she whispered; but he only bit her bottom lip.

“What were you doing when I first showed up today?” he asked, and she scoffed.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I’m wondering how nice am I going to be. What is it gonna be, Charlie?” he said quietly.

“Don’t be nice.” she said breathlessly, her eyes fixed on his narrow lips. “I want it to _hurt_.”

(She felt like maybe a little bit of pain will bring her back.)

“Do you want me to hurt you?” he asked quietly; he moved one of his hands onto her neck and squeezed lightly.

“Yes.” she panted out.

(From him even a stab in the back would feel like a blessing, and she wanted those bruises and bitemarks as badly as a saint craves holy pain.)

“Alright.”

They did hurt each other that night, many times; with scratches and bruises and bitemarks and hair-pulling. His touch was merciless and relentless and his kisses burned her skin like fire and she wanted more, more, _more_. He bruised her neck and hips and thighs and she drew his blood with her fingernails; he marked her skin with his teeth and she pulled his hair. He made her scream and muffled the sounds with a kiss and laughter came out of his throat as she was dragging her sharp nails across his already scarred back.

“Was that sufficient?” he asked later, as they were lying in bed and her thoughts were hazy and blurry. “Or did you want me to hurt you _more_?”

“No.” she muttered in response, her body sore, but relaxed. “How’s your back?”

“I’ll live. Now, treat your bruises with respect.” he said jokingly. “Not every of my fans can say I choked them.”

“I’ll wear them with pride.” she promised him, closing her eyes for a moment. “Oswald…”

“Yes?”

“My heart belongs to you.” she said very quietly, her common sense practically begging her to stop. “Do you realize that?”

“Yes.” he replied. “And I want you to know… You’ve earned a spot in my heart as well. I think there is something going on between us, Charlie. Even though we barely met.”

They fell in love, hard and fast; and Charlie tried to feel bad about suddenly developing feelings for one of Gotham’s most notorious criminals - but to no avail. She felt scared about what the future will bring for the two of them and how the story will end - but she didn’t feel bad. The heart wants what it wants and love cannot be compelled; the inevitable consequences were horrifying to think about, but she decided to live in the moment.

(There was always a possibility of this whole thing being just a result of her getting too much into her role; maybe it’d pass once he left. Maybe it’d pass once she saw him spill blood. Maybe it’d pass if…)

***

He fell in love, plain and simple - he fell in love with a girl who brought him his mother’s ring and who burned his skin with a kiss and who smashed glass tables with a baseball bat and who killed a man with no hesitation and in one, swift swing. He fell in love with a girl who looked at him with pure adoration as his fingers were wrapped around her throat; he fell in love with a girl who showed up out of nowhere - but it didn’t matter. He checked her reports, and she had a life before Gotham; she was an actual person and everything she told him about herself was proven to be true. She came to Gotham to finally meet her idol; and he was so, so glad she did. They were a match made in Heaven, two sides of the same coin. His heart belonged to her and his skin yearned for her touch.

His men and associates mostly took it relatively well - Fish and Louise seemed to be happy for him. Bullock was skeptical, and so was Schulz. Tennyson refused to give out his opinion; maybe for the better.

“I don’t like it, boss.” Schulz said, shaking his head. “At all. What if she’s the mole?”

“Nonsense, Schulz.” Oswald replied calmly, sharpening his knife. “She’s not the mole. I’d know. _No one_ can be that good at acting.”

“Ellen Page pretending to be attracted to Michael Cera?”

“Compare me to Michael Cera one more time and I’ll cut your throat, Schulz. And that’s a promise.”

Schulz did have a point though - there was a mole among his men. Someone told the Joker he’s going to be at Lafontaine’s. Someone told him about the Carousel. Or maybe the Carousel was a trap? Maybe the clown intentionally fed Charlie’s friend this information knowing it’s going to make his way to him?

He shared those doubts with Charlie.

“That’s impossible.” she said; they were in her apartment on the couch and he was lying with his head on her lap. “She didn’t find out directly from the Joker, she did it all by herself.”

“Hm.” he muttered. “Well, then who _is_ the mole?”

“I wish I knew.” she sighed. “Maybe some new blood?”

“I have to think of a way to flush them out.” he said absentmindedly. “Have you heard from your friend recently?”

“Actually I’m waiting for a call. She texted me. Apparently she has something big. She’s going up through the ranks, you know? She’s incredible.” Charlie said with pure admiration in her voice.

Her mysterious friend turned out to be useful; she had plenty of leaks for Penguin, nothing big enough to draw suspicions, but also significant enough to allow Penguin to slowly, methodically undermine Joker’s plans and alliances. Eventually - and he was sure of that - he’d be able to plan a surprise attack on the clown and end him once and for good.

But for now, he had his love life to take care of; he was glad he decided to put off revealing his identity as Oswald Cobblepot, the long-lost last heir to the long gone Cobblepot fortune. Sure, Charlie figured it out all by herself - but she was the only one resourceful enough. Money can open many mouths; and he was sure it cost her a lot, following the gossamer thread of leads he had left behind.

Keeping his identity a secret opened up a lot of opportunities - normal opportunities, like walks in the park. It felt weird, walking hand in hand with someone who’d later the same day be his assistant in robbing a fancy party. It was a quick, easy job - Charlie was a guest, a charming personality, a dazzling star of every gathering. She spent an hour or so chatting people up, taking mental notes of who’s present and whose necks are decorated with priceless diamonds; she then discreetly signaled her lover who - accompanied by his men - barged in, took the nearest guest hostage and threatened to shoot them unless the other guests part ways with their jewelry and cash.

It worked; Charlie was a very convincing hostage, trembling as he was pressing her arms to her sides, while putting a loaded gun to the side of her head.

“This is exciting.” she whispered to him, quietly enough only he could hear her. “You’re wearing the gloves I bought you. That’s nice.”

(She bought him a pair of expensive gloves, made of the finest, Italian leather.)

He didn’t say anything, instead gently nudging her with his gun, hoping she’ll understand what he means; she squirmed slightly and he tightened his grip.

He dragged his gun across the skin on her back that evening, and smiled under his mask, seeing a shiver run down her spine; before she handed him his prize - her hands shaking ostentatiously - he grabbed her chin with his gloved fingers and lift it up, forcing her to look into the empty eye of his mask.

All the terrified guests were behind her back and no one except for him could see her face; and she looked at him same way she did when they first met, same way when his fingers were around her throat after she asked him to hurt her.

“That’s what I like to see.” he said, looking her in the eye. “Good.”

(He adored the way she looked at him.)

He hoped it would be like this forever.

***  
Filling our reports and talking about her progress was getting harder with each passing day; with each day she felt more like a traitor to Oswald, than to the Agency. She made a mistake, all those months ago; she picked the wrong side and the time to pay the price was slowly coming. She learned everything that was to learn about Oswald; his habits, hideouts, plans. She gained his trust - and her supervisor was insisting it’s time to put an end to this.

“But what about the Joker?” Charlie protested during a sparring session. “We still have to use Penguin in that one!”

“And we will do it once he’s in our custody and working on our terms.” Flagg replied. “This is taking way too long.”

“Yeah, well, getting his trust wasn’t easy. He’s… Secretive.”

“Sure he is, agent. Sure he is.”

She was given an ultimatum - two months. She had two months to wrap her operation up and arrest the Penguin, or Agency armed task force would swoop in and do it for her, stealing her thunder. It was least of her concerns, not getting the recognition; she found herself in a situation without exit and that was the only thing she could think about when he was wrapping his arms around her.

“Is something bothering you, love?”

“No.” she said, turning her head away. “Make it hurt. Please.”

“Oh, but I don’t want it to hurt tonight.” he muttered, brushing her temple with his lips. “I wanted tonight to be romantic…”

His words brought tears to her eyes, for some reason; it’s not like their rough, bruising sex worked in terms of bringing her back and making her look at him differently - if anything, it brought quite the opposite result. He was a thief and had no remorse about selling weapons to drug lords and would order his men to torture someone without giving it a second thought - but he would also kiss her bruises and make her laugh with his terrible jokes. He was bad - and she didn’t mind.

For some time, she tried to comfort herself by thinking that _maybe_ it won’t be that bad. _Maybe_ he’ll agree to work with the Agency. _Maybe_ he’ll forgive her. _Maybe_ they’ll be an odd couple - the agent and the prisoner she brought in, love through the cage bars, sad little story of a predator and its prey. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

There was a lot of maybes in her thoughts, a lot of what-ifs - and she never got any confirmation or answers for most of them.

The beginning of an end came with a bank robbery.

It wouldn’t be the first time Penguin requested her assistance in a heist - but it was the first time she was supposed to lead the operation in his name, while he was busy in the other part of town. He worked out a plan with her, and made his men swear on their lives they’ll follow her lead; officially Penguin wasn’t playing favorites. Unofficially everyone knew who his favorite is - and no one had enough courage to argue with his decision. Not Schulz, who was very close to making Penguin lose his patience. Not Tennyson, who saw what she can do when in desperate situation.

At first, everything went smooth; she entered the bank with her bat and a drawn gun, Penguin’s men behind her, a grim horde. She shot at the ceiling to draw attention.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!” she said as bank workers and clients were being taken care of. “Unfortunately Penguin couldn’t make it, so today I’m in charge. You can call me Pinniped.”

That whole thing - the robbery, the thrill, the mask - felt right. Like she was born to do it.

“Now… You know the rules.” she said calmly, walking in front of a terrified row of clerks. “Play nice… Or else.”

She smashed the nearby wooden table to illustrate her point; pieces of wood flew in all directions.

“Do we understand each other?”

“Cops are en route, we should move quickly.” Tennyson advised her quietly and she nodded.

“Fine. Everyone take as much as you can and we’re gone.”

“You heard her!” he said louder, walking away. “Come on, we don’t have a whole day!”

They got rich that afternoon, and disappeared without a trace; they had it mastered. Her presence was only needed so the city knew who’s behind this - she had to carry on Penguin’s name. It was pure showmanship - but she enjoyed it, much more than she wanted to admit.

She realized something’s way off during the escape. They were escaping in twos, and she ended up with Schulz; but she was fine with it, because she was sure Schulz reconsidered and is at least going to stop being an asshole.

(Why was she so concerned with what this random criminal thinks of her? She had no idea. Sometimes she pushed the thoughts of her job so far away she forgot her current life was supposed to be a mere act.)

But something was wrong - and wherever Schulz was taking her definitely wasn’t one of Penguin’s hideouts.

“What the fuck, Schulz?” she asked sharply. “Where are we going?”

“There was a small change of plans, princess.” he said mockingly. “I’m not taking you to the Penguin.”

“He’s going to rip your head off.” she said, reaching for her gun; but Schulz only snickered.

“You’re out of bullets. I counted. Now stop being a brat and maybe you’ll live. Sure, you’ll have to watch the Joker take care of Penguin, but it’s still better than being dead, right?”

“No.” she said, feeling cold sweat run down her spine. “No. Oh my god, no. Don’t do it.”

“Too late. Everything’s already in motion.” Schulz said with a shrug.

The situation looked _bad_. She considered jumping out of the driving car; but there was no way she’d survive this. She could try to fight - but that would end up in a car crash. She had no weapons, no equipment; she was on her own - and scared. There was no way out - all she could hope for was Flagg taking initiative after she fails to report back. She also hoped for Oswald to magically show up and save the day - but he’s been searching for the Joker’s hideout for months with no success.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked quietly, wondering why is he allowing her to see where are they going; but she quickly realized why. She wasn’t going to leave anyway.

“Me? Nothing.” Schulz said with a shrug. “But the Joker wants to chat with you. And believe me - he can be _very_ convincing.”

“Well, what does he want from me?”

“Penguin’s plans, of course. And if I were you… I’d give them all the answers he wants.”

When she wasn’t looking he stabbed her in the neck with a needle; she gasped in pain and after few minutes everything went black.

***  
He fell in love and it broke his heart, shattered it to pieces and made him feel like he’s drowning, suffocating, dying. It made him feel like a kid all over again; betrayed, angry, bitter. Heartbreak tasted like ash, like blood, like gunpowder; heartbreak tasted like hazelnut macarons and coconut biscotti. Heartbreak was knowing that all the adoration in her eyes and kisses… Was fake.

It began with a bank robbery; he had a deal to strike in another part of town, so he decided to let Charlie run things for a while. It’s not like there was a lot to fuck up; she knew to not kill civilians, could be intimidating if she only wanted to, knew how to make an unforgettable entrance. The heist was in good hands; his reputation was in good hands.

He realized something went sideways when he met up with his crew in one of his hideouts. Everyone made it in one piece; everyone - except for Charlie and Schulz.

“Well this is fucking fantastic.” he said, trying to remain calm. “What happened? Did the cops catch up to them?”

“We’d hear about it if that was the case.”

“Then where are they?!” he snapped. “Alright. Alright. I’m going to call my friend on the force. Maybe he knows something. Anything.”

But Bullock haven’t heard about anything; no arrests had been made in regards to the heist. GCPD had no suspects regarding the identity of Penguin’s masked representative, there was nothing.

“Hold up.” Bullock said as Oswald was about to smash his phone against the wall. “Didn’t you put tracking devices in your getaway cars?”

The detective was right - Oswald did do it, months earlier - he then forgot about it, because he never had any need for those and had a lot of his head. The computer connected to the trackers was in his main hideout in the docks; it took him about an hour to get there.

“They’re… By the harbor?” he said, surprised. “And not moving. Also she’s not picking up her phone. Neither is he.”

“Maybe they have an affair.” one of his men - Graham - suggested, to which Oswald promptly punched him in the celiac plexus.

“I’m going there.” he decided calmly, putting his gloves on. “I’ve got a bad, bad feeling about this. Take your best toys, boys.”

His bad feelings were confirmed to be true; the place - an abandoned building - was surrounded by Joker’s men. Charlie and Schulz were nowhere to be seen - until he got to the room on the top floor. He could hear voices coming from behind the closed door; Joker’s joyful trill, Schulz’s grumbling… And Charlie’s breathy, terrified pleads. She was begging the clown to not kill him; but the clown was ignoring her, instead negotiating payment with Schulz.

He cocked his gun and cursed quietly; he only had one bullet left. He could wait for his men to catch up; but he felt like the moment he walks away the clown will slip through his fingers, like many times before.

“You fucking _traitor_!” Oswald screamed, bursting into the room; two men froze in place, taken by surprise.

He made a split-second decision; traitorous Schulz dropped onto the ground. There was no doubt _he_ was the mole; and Oswald didn’t care about his excuses or explanations.

Charlie - drugged out of her mind - was tied up on the chair; and the clown raised his hands, giving Oswald a sardonic smile.

“My good friend!” he said, staring at him. “Look, pretty thing, your white knight is here!”

“I’m going to kill you.” Oswald said calmly, pointing his gun at the Joker. “For ruining my plans and for planting a mole among _my_ men and for what you did to _her_.”

“Last one on your list of priorities!” the Joker giggled. “It’s a good thing she’s _so_ high her brain’s basically in another dimension. But… You can’t kill me now.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re out of ammo.” the Joker said calmly, slowly lowering his hands and sitting more comfortably. “We still have a few more minutes. And it’s good! Because, my good friend… There’s something you should know about.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Oswald said instead. “It’s over, clown. Your men are down and I have you at my mercy. You’re dead. Face the facts.”

“Suit yourself.” the Joker said, slowly showing him a pocket dictaphone. “But this little bird _did_ sing me a remarkably pretty song… And trust me, you’re going to love it.”

He reached out to touch Charlie’s face; and before Oswald could react - she headbutted him with all her might.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, struggling desperately in her bonds. “Don’t touch me!”

“Boss!” Tennyson panted out, bursting into the room. “There you are!”

“Give me your gun, Archie.” Oswald said calmly, not taking his eyes off the Joker, who was groaning in pain. “I need one shot.”

“Penguin, wait!” the Joker pleased, as Oswald cocked Tennyson’s loaded gun and slowly walked up to him. “We can talk, just don’t-”

Least memorable last words in history. Joker’s head practically exploded as Oswald shot him in the face, once and for all putting an end to their war; he then turned around to face Charlie, who - in the meantime - was being untied from the chair by Archie.

“I was so worried.” he said quietly, helping her get up; her legs were shaking and it looked like she’s going to pass out. “What did he do to you?”

“He drugged me…” she muttered, showing him a big, ugly bruise on her neck. “Truth serum… Big dose. Schulz’s the mole.” she said suddenly, gripping the fabric of his jacket. “Oswald. Schulz’s the mole.”

“Schulz is dead, Charlie. I killed him.”

“I must have missed that…” she muttered; she was shaking badly. Suddenly her legs gave up and she almost fell down; he caught her and picked her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I knew you’d come for me.” she whispered as he carried her down the stairs. “I knew it.”

“Shhhhh.” he said, laying her down on the backseat of his car. “Don’t talk. I’ll take you to a safe place, and I’m going to get someone who’ll fix you up.”

The Waterfront - belonging to Falcone - wasn’t exactly a safe spot; but it was nearby, and he trusted FIsh Mooney enough to know she won’t rat him out to Gotham’s ugliest mafioso.

Through threats he convinced Crane - a professional doctor, a brilliant chemist and a complete nutjob - to come over and help.

Fish lent them her office, where she had a comfortable futon; she seemed concerned, as Oswald marched in, carrying nearly unconscious Charlie.

“Oh my, what happened?!” she asked, following them and watching as he carefully laid his drugged up lover down.

“The Joker.” Oswald replied shortly. “Scarecrow will be here soon. He knows what to do to make her… Better.”

“Then she’s in good hands.” Fish said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll get you something to drink.”

“I’m not leaving her.” he said quietly, looking at Charlie’s flushed cheeks and seemingly unseeing eyes. “That bastard… I’m glad he’s dead.”

“She’ll be fine, boy. She’ll be fine.”

Crane managed to bring Charlie back to Earth, somehow; she was still weak and scared - but at least she wasn’t high anymore.

“Now the only thing I can recommend is some sleep.” Crane said, putting on his coat. “Some sleep, some vitamins, some water… What she was injected with isn’t addictive, so that’s not gonna be a problem. She should be good to go in two days tops.”

“Thanks, you weirdo.” Oswald said, looking at Crane; outside of his Scarecrow persona the disgraced psychiatrist seemed almost normal, almost pleasant. “I’m… Sorry I threatened to cut you to pieces and feed them to you. Heat of the moment.”

“Ah, but I understand. Love makes fools of us all.”

“Yeah.” Oswald replied quietly, watching him leave. “Yeah.”

“Can you take me back to the hotel?” Charlie asked, standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “I think… I need to rest in my own bed.”

“Of course. Charlie…”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re safe.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and hiding his face in her hair.

She asked him to not leave her alone, and he happily obliged; he was dangerously close to losing her, after all.

She fell asleep eventually; curled up in bed and muttering, but at least she was alive and in one piece. Watching her and the shadows of her lashes on her cheeks, he absentmindedly played with something in his pocket; eventually he pulled it out, not recognizing the oblong, metallic item.

It was Joker’s recording device, and in its memory - everything Charlie told to the clown; for a while he stared at the device in silent, before moving to another room and - against his better judgement - pressing _play_.

He listened to the recording over and over again that night, but it didn’t make it any less painful.

Charlie - _his_ Charlie, the girl who brought him his mother’s ring, the girl who looked at him with loving adoration and whose kisses were sweeter than honey and more tempting than sin - was an agent, sent out by the Agency to capture him; he knew it’s true. She said it while drugged with a truth serum. Her feelings were all an elaborate lie, a way of getting into his good graces; her love wasn’t real and he felt as if someone ripped his heart out.

He waited till morning to confront her; and he listened to her confession over and over again, until he had every word memorized, every shaky note, every change of tone. It burned itself into his brain, into his soul, into his heart.

“I know the truth, you lying viper.” he said quietly as she left the bedroom, her hair a mess and her body soft and warm. “I know who sent you.”

She turned pale.

“Oswald…” she said faintly, reaching out to touch his face; but he pushed her hands away. “Oswald, please…”

“Shut up.” he said; suddenly he felt very calm, almost dead. “I’m leaving now. You can drop by my hideout in the docks today to pick up your stuff. After that… I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Oswald…”

“No.” he said, walking to the door. “Don’t talk to me.”

“But I love you!”

She sounded desperate and almost sincere and he laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

“Oh, Charlie. You must think I’m really fucking stupid.”

He left, not giving her a chance to say anything else; he punched the corridor wall, enough times and hard enough to make his knuckles bleed.

***  
The thing she so badly didn’t want to think about happened; Oswald found out. He didn’t go through her phone, he wasn’t digging in her laptop; he didn’t have to. He simply listened to what the Joker recorded - plain truth, spilling out of her lips like poison. He didn’t want to listen to her explanation; there’s no way he’d believe her anyway. Her love confessions didn’t feel real to him anymore. Her love didn’t feel real anymore; even though it did to _her_. It was real, it was all real; and that was the source of her suffering.

The rest was a blur, only interrupted with few sharp, crystal clear memories.

She went to the docks the same way, to pick up few things she had left there; a bra. A hairbrush.

(Her heart.)

“So that’s it?” she asked quietly, looking at his back; he was packing up, ready to abandon this hideout. “We’re done?”

“Actually, Charlie…” he said and her heart skipped a beat. “We’re not done. Because apparently… What we had was never real. And you can’t destroy something that never existed in the first place. So, since there was never any _we_ to speak of…”

He turned around to face her; his face was calm and his eyes were cold and dark and indifferent.

“My heart isn’t broken.” he said and his voice was a bit shaky. “You’re just a stranger. A spy I’m mercifully sparing, as an act of good will. Now go, before this changes… And I get really fucking unpleasant.”

“I’m sorry.” she said quietly, trying to not think about what’s going to happen once her superiors find out.

“Oh, and one more thing.” he said as she was by the door.

“Yes?”

“Here.” he said, throwing a small box in her direction; inside was a pair of beautiful, white gold and benitoite earrings. “A token of appreciation.” he said bitterly. “I’ve been meaning to give those to you for quite some time now.”

She left without a word, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Louise wasn’t overjoyed.

“I know.” she said, before Charlie said anything. “So do Flagg and Waller and Avesta. Almost everyone’s pissed at you.”

“Almost?”

“Well, I’m not.” she said with a shrug. “Waller sent a total rookie to deal with the Penguin, a man who probably rolled over thirty on charisma.”

“Louise, I love him.” Charlie said tearfully. “I really fucking do.”

“Oh, but I believe you.” Louise replied calmly. “He’s very likeable, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

“Luckily for you, I have a way out of this mess.”

“...what?”

She couldn’t believe her ears; was it real? Did the superior agent really have a way to solve this ugly clusterfuck?

“Please tell me.” she said tearfully. “Please.”

“How good of a liar are you?”

“Good enough to trick myself into thinking it’ll pass over and over again.” Charlie said bitterly. “Come on. Hit me.”

After Louise laid out her idea, silence fell in the room for a moment.

“Why are you helping me?” Charlie asked finally. “Shouldn’t you be angry at me as well?”

“I’m leaving the Agency.” Louise replied with a shrug. “I’m tired of this double life bullshit. Plus… I’ve spent months working with Cobblepot. I think he corrupted me as well. He does that to people. Only ever brings out the worst in them.”

“Yeah.” she said, thinking about his kisses and the warmth of his body. “He does.”

Finally the judgement day came and Charlie had to face a very pissed off Amanda Waller.

“I’m taking Avesta after you, because I need some damn good news.” Waller said without any greeting. “Penguin got away. How so?”

“The Joker drugged me. Got a confession. Penguin heard it and… He disappeared.”

“Months of hard work gone!” Waller exploded. “And this is all you have to say?!”

“Well what _do_ you want me to say?! I’m not going to apologize, this is not my fault! I was kidnapped and drugged!”

“You were _trained_ to persevere in situations like this, agent.” Waller said, shaking her head. “This is most disappointing.”

Her disappointment didn’t hurt half as much as she thought it would.

“Then maybe I’m not the Agency material. Maybe I should leave. But…”

“ _But_? Spit it out, for fuck’s sake.” Waller groaned.

“Here’s what I have to say: _you_ sent a rookie agent, straight out of training, to deal with someone you claimed to be a _high priority target_. This is a mistake on _your_ part, ma’am.” Charlie said calmly. “And I think you realize that. Am I right?”

“What’s your point, agent?”

“My point is… You fucked up. If Penguin _really_ is a high priority target - someone’s going to ask questions. Someone’s going to wonder what happened. And eventually… Someone’s going to give an answer to those questions.” she continued, crossing her fingers under the table. “Someone’s going to say _I was a rookie and I was sent out to get the Penguin, despite barely having finished my training_. And then… There will be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me, agent?” Waller asked with amusement, leaning forwards slightly. “That’s adorable and pointless, because I can simply say Penguin never was a high priority target. Also I could lock you up for this insolence.”

“I wouldn’t do this if I were you.”

“Oh really? How so?”

“I have access to the Agency database. I printed out a lot of pages - mostly personnel files. Names, numbers, addresses… The good stuff, all in physical copies. They are in good hands - for now. Everything will go viral… If I fail to call a certain person by a certain hour.”

That was it: the tipping point, the deciding moment, the essence of Louise’s plan.

“That’s treason.” Waller said calmly. “You’ll go to jail.”

“Maybe, but the damage will already be done. So… Worth it.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“You don’t.” Charlie replied calmly. “Polygraphs are extremely unreliable, and as for chemicals… During the last few weeks I’ve been injected with a dose big enough anything more than that might be lethal.”

“Alright, let’s say I play along.” Waller said, folding her hands. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

“I want to leave the Agency, no strings attached. This is not a mutually beneficial relationship.” Charlie said with a polite smile. “I also want Penguin to be off the Agency’s target list.”

“Oh, this is _fascinating_.”

“He’s just a common thief. He’s not big enough to be that important… Unless he is. Which brings us back to the beginning and my initial… Suggestion.”

Waller didn’t say anything, and her expression hadn’t changed; but Charlie felt the scales tipping in her favor.

“There’s no good way out of this situation.” she added eventually. “Except for agreeing to what I suggested… And keeping your word. And I’ll keep the files. You know. As a protection.”

“Your impertinence is remarkable, agent.” Waller said; and her calm sounded fake. “But you know what? Fine. Have your damn deal. I’ll gladly do anything to never have to look at Cobblepot’s mug ever again.”

“It’s a deal then.” Charlie said calmly. “And I’m going to keep my end of the bargain… As long as you keep yours.”

“Penguin will be off our list by midnight. Now get out before I change my mind and lock you up for treason.”

Charlie left Waller’s office feeling triumphant; naturally she _knew_ that with Waller nothing is as simple as it seems. Maybe she was the one being played. Maybe she simply gave Waller what she _wanted_ ; but it didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact she was free - and with bold blackmail she won a chance to try again.

Over the phone, Louise confirmed her doubts.

“We’re being played.” she warned her. “And I just sent my resignation letter, so we’re on our own.”

“It doesn’t matter. Let me live in the moment.”

“ _Living in the moment_ caused you to be in situation where you had to blackmail Waller. But fine. When are you coming back to Gotham?”

“I should be there by tomorrow evening. Why?”

“Falcone’s doing another auction soon. Theodore Cobblepot’s monocle will be up for grabs. I’d say...It’s a good starting point.”

“But I’m over Oswald.” Charlie lied. “He hates me. We’re done.”

“You’re not over him and he’s not over you. Trust me on this one.” Louise said tiredly. “Get your ass back to Gotham as fast as possible, I want this mess to be over with. You’ll get him a family memento, we’ll track him down and then you two will talk shit out, like functional adults.”

“That almost sounds like a plan.”

“Not _almost_ , Charlie. Not _almost_.”

***  
She was back in Gotham, and it felt like she never left; it felt like she belonged there, in that cursed city, plagued by crime and a self-proclaimed vigilante.

(Somehow she never crossed paths with the Bat, even as she ran with Penguin’s men; perhaps he couldn’t be bothered by henchmen and sidekicks. Perhaps they were like ants to him. Perhaps he had his eyes set on something bigger and more menacing.)

She even managed to rent the same hotel apartment she resided in; it was clinically clean again and the staff had changed the sheets and cleaned up all surfaces, but the air still felt heavy with memories of kisses and gasps. The dried-up flowers she kept in a vase were gone; but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact her skin still remembered the touch of his lips and her heart still remembered that weird thing in his eyes, that irresistible spark drawing her in. Her heart remembered; which is why she gave up on claiming she’s _over him_.

Also because Louise threatened to not help her if she says that again. That was a factor too.

Falcone’s second auction was being hosted in the same exact building as the first one: and she recognized many faces, from the evenings spent mingling with the social elite. Maroni was nowhere to be seen, and so was Bruce Wayne; some people approached her to ask how is she feeling after that one time Penguin took her hostage at a party.

(She still remembered the feeling of a gun sliding across her bare back and his gloved fingers on her chin.)

“It seems like the Penguin had disappeared after killing the Joker. Maybe he grew bored of Gotham.” one attendee theorized. “Maybe he’s waiting for another worthy opponent to show up.”

“Or maybe he’s planning something big.” Fish Mooney chimed in, slightly nodding in Charlie’s direction. “Gathering up resources, scheming… Or maybe he needed vacation.”

“Maybe.” Charlie said, nodding in the direction of the nearest restroom; Fish rolled her eyes, but followed her after a moment.

“What are you doing back in Gotham?” she asked as Charlie was fixing her lipstick.

“Making things right.” she muttered. “Also I’m looking for Oswald. Where is he, Fish?”

“I’m not telling you. I know you’re from the Agency. Your cover’s blown, agent.”

“My cover’s old news. But fine. I’ll find him on my own.” she said, sliding her lipstick back into her purse. “Can you at least tell me how is he?”

“Bad.” Fish replied after a moment. “He’s claiming he’s perfectly fine, but… He’s lying. He says he’s over it, because _it_ never actually happened, but… I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Then I better find him soon.” Charlie said softly. “Oh! The auction’s starting. I better go, I seriously _need_ that monocle.”

“I’ve got to ask… What was your cover story in case someone asked why are you buying Cobblepot family memorabilia?”

“I’m naturally drawn to family tragedies.” Charlie replied, with her hand on the doorknob. “Look up my family. Many parts of my cover… Weren’t actually made up.”

The auction went remarkably fast; no one else seemed to want the monocle she intended to use as a make-up icebreaker. She could see Falcone is looking at her weirdly attentively, as if he was trying to figure her out; but she didn’t mind. She had almost nothing to hide.

Finding Oswald was a bit trickier.

“He cut all ties with me.” Louise confessed as they were sitting in Charlie’s apartment. “I think he connected the dots and figured me out. I’m surprised he didn’t try to take revenge on me.”

“Maybe he decided it’s not worth it. Or maybe he hadn’t tried… _Yet_.”

“Shit.” Louise said with a shudder. “You’re probably right. Well, if that’s the case we better find him fast, I don’t want to one day wake up to my reputation completely tarnished. If he digs deep enough he’ll find tons of dirt on me.”

“He doesn’t have to dig. All he has to do is to admit to being friends with you - and you’re done.”

“...thanks, that really cheered me up. But luckily for us, detective Bullock owes me a favor. I’m going to call it in. I bet he knows where this jerk is hiding these days.”

Bullock - perpetually tired, perpetually snarky detective from one of better known precincts - was a bit… Hesitant about helping them.

“I don’t know, Louise.” he said, shaking his head. “This is kind of a big thing. And I owe you for what, an anonymous tip?”

“I saved your career, detective.” Louise hissed, slamming her hand down at Bullock’s desk. “Time to repay the favor.”

“Good afternoon, miss McDonagh!” precinct captain’s assistant cheerfully greeted Louise, briefly glancing at Charlie, who was awkwardly standing behind her. “Did detective Bullock mess up? Should I get the captain?”

“No, no, we’re good.” Louise replied, not taking her eyes off Bullock. “He just refuses to hand me an old file, that’s all.”

The young man nodded and went back to his desk; Bullock sighed and got up.

“Alright, come with me. We have to talk in private. You…”

He paused for a moment, staring at Charlie.

“You stay there.” he said eventually. “You’re a civilian now. _Right?_ ”

“I cut all ties with the Agency, if that’s what you’re getting at.” she replied calmly. “So yeah. I’m now a civilian. Will you help us?”

“Fine, but only because _she_ is friends with the DA.” Bullock grumbled out; he and Louise disappeared in the evidence room and Charlie was left behind in the main room; it was a remarkably calm day and precinct detectives were mostly busy with paperwork. Nobody paid any attention to her; near the elevators she could spot a bunch of _WANTED_ posters - on one of them she could see herself, wearing her mask.

“She’s a mystery, that one.” one of the detectives - a tall, blonde woman - said, standing next to her with hands in her pockets. “Showed up out of nowhere and disappeared without a trace. We think maybe it was a lover’s quarrel.”

“Are you implying you think Penguin killed his girlfriend?” Charlie asked, not taking her eyes off the poster. “That’s dark.”

“Well, Penguin’s a weird person. Who knows. Maybe one day we’ll fish her corpse out of the Gotham River.” detective said with a shrug, turned around and walked up to sergeant who had some questions for her.

“Detective Sawyer, I just want to make sure-” was the last thing Charlie heard before Bullock and Louise returned; Bullock looking grim and Louise smiling triumphantly.

“I squeezed the address out of him.” Louise said quietly, putting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Penguin moved all of his hideouts, but I’ve got the main one.”

“Oh thank god.” Charlie said with relief, shooting mopey Bullock a grateful smile. “Then let’s go.”

“Not so fast!” Bullock stopped her. “You can’t just show up out of blue. Use one of his men. I think Tennyson might be willing to help.”

“Okay, this is getting way too complicated.” Louise interrupted him impatiently. “The more people know what’s up the bigger the chance _he_ will realize something’s going on and then we will have to start all over again. Bullock, not a word to anyone. Charlie, get back to the hotel and wait for my sign. I still have one more ace up my sleeve.”

They parted ways outside the precinct; Charlie got into a cab. Before the car drove away in the direction of her hotel, she heard Louise speak French to her telephone.

“Monsieur Moreau! Comment vas-tu? C’est Louise McDonagh-”

***  
He got a call from Moreau one afternoon; the restaurant owner sounded desperate and terrified and insisted the matter he wants to discuss is too important for a phone call.

“It better be good, Moreau.” Oswald said calmly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But fine. I’ll be there in an hour… And not a second earlier. So try to not die, hmm?”

He dressed up, snuck out of his hideout - which he moved to the same abandoned building where he once killed Schulz and the Joker - and drove to the restaurant, pondering on last details of his next big heist: he was planning to finally reveal himself to the world and get his revenge on the last remaining heir to the Wayne fortune, his childhood friend. Over the years of criminal activity he gathered enough contacts, resources and money to be able to put things in motion; now all he had to do was to actually start working towards getting back what was rightfully his.

He put his mask on and entered the restaurant through a back door, reminiscing on his first - interrupted - date with the girl who broke his heart; he did his best to push her out of his mind and move on with his life, but it was hard. Her lies broke his heart and her kisses burned his skin; he tried to hate her - but he couldn’t. He tried to imagine actually hurting her - but he couldn’t. All he could imagine was the way she looked at him as his fingers were around her throat.

‘This better not be a trap, Moreau.” he said as the distressed Frenchie was leading him to the back room. “You won’t like what might happen if you’re screwing me over.”

“Please, monsieur Manchot. We’ve been through this already.” Moreau said, opening the door. “I would never betray you.”

It took Oswald a moment to process what’s going on.

Charlie was there, wearing the same exact outfit she wore during their date, down to the mask he gave her to conceal her identity. She was sitting at the table, looking down at her hands; she turned her head and smiled at his sight and his heart stopped and he turned around and grabbed Moreau by his neck.

“You slimy bastard.” he hissed out as the man started to wheeze. “You fucking-”

“Penguin, this is enough.” Charlie interrupted him and the sound of her voice made his heart ache. “Let him go.”

“Fine.” he said coldly, letting the coughing man go. “But I’m leaving as well.”

“At least hear me out, dammit!” she said tearfully, crossing her arms. “Please. This is all I’m asking for. A chance to explain everything.”

“Alright, I’m listening.” he said, feeling as if he’s being manipulated. “You have two minutes. After that… We’re done for good.”

“Deal.” she said; her voice was trembling. “Just let me take care of this first…”

She turned her attention to Moreau.

“Monsieur Moreau, c’est tout. Merci beaucoup. À charge de revanche.”

“Je vous en prie.” Moreau said shakingly, nervously glancing at Oswald. “Bonne chance.”

He left hastily and they entered the room; Charlie quietly sat down and took her mask off. Oswald - for now - decided to keep his on.

“So, I’m all ears.” he said finally. “What does a viper have to say?”

“I really was sent out by the Agency.” she said, glancing at him anxiously. “And at first - _at first -_ it really was an act. But then… It stopped being an act. And then I realized… I’ve been wrong all the time. I wasn’t meant to be an agent. It’s not the right path for me. The right path for me is either somewhere in the middle… Or on your side of the war.” she said softly. “So I came back. Because… I wanted to see you again.”

Her words sounded genuine, and he did his best to not believe her; she was wearing the earrings he gave her. The intense blue of the gems contrasted beautifully with her red hair.

“You were _spying_ on me.” he said, shaking his head. “You should be dead.” he added without thinking; but she only sighed and closed her eyes.

“Then kill me.” she said calmly. “I know what happens to people who double-cross the Penguin. They either die or they lose everything.”

“I can’t kill you.” he said weakly. “I… Charlie, I _loved you_.”

(The past tense was a lie, as he realized looking at her face and hearing her voice.)

“I know.” she said softly, opening her eyes. “I know. Which is why… I left the Agency.”

“...what?”

“I left.” she repeated. “I… Might have blackmailed my ex-boss into getting you off the list. Everything and everyone I have is now in Gotham… And I intend to stay.” she added. “Whether you want it or not. I’m going to keep trying again and again, until I finally manage to build a good life for myself.”

“I don’t own Gotham.” he said, feeling a weird lump in his throat.

“No, but you said again and again you don’t want to see me.” she said sadly. “Which is… Fair enough, I suppose. I should be glad I’m not dead. I was kinda expecting a revenge, you know.” she added. “Some sort of retaliation. Someone wrecking my car, dead animals on my doorstep, wrecked reputation… That sort of thing. I unintentionally broke your heart.”

“Why did you want to talk?” he asked hesitantly, uncertainly. “I appreciate you getting me off the Agency’s hook, but… Why? Why would you do this?”

“Oh, but I told you already, when we were parting ways. Don’t you remember? I told you I love you - and I meant it. Hell, I think… I think I still do.” she added quietly, looking away. “It’s in the recording as well, I think. I remember… I remember I begged the Joker for your life. And I remember he asked me why am so adamant in staying by your side? And I said… It’s because I love you.”

He didn’t say anything; she looked up at him again.

“I meant everything I said, Oswald.” she said, her voice cracking. “I fell for you so hard and so fast I nearly shattered to pieces. I love you, but I understand if you tell me to fuck off forever. Even though… It feels weird, apologizing to a criminal.” she added with an uncertain smile. “You’re awful, but I love you. And I guess that’s what I wanted to say.”

“That’s… A lot to process.” he said after a long pause; her words echoed in his head and in his heart.

He started to consider his options; this could be a trap, Agency’s last desperate attempt at capturing him - but she cited what she said when she was drugged out of her mind. She also was - or used to be, if her words were true - a trained agent; a trained agent who - for some reason - allowed herself to be vulnerable around him.

She was also telling him something he so badly wanted to hear; something that was haunting him during night hours, when he only had his thoughts for company.

“I know.” she said, again looking away from him. “I just… Wanted to see you again. Explain some things. I didn’t want us to be… Such an ugly story.”

“Charlie…” he said, but she interrupted him, waving her hand.

“Don’t, Oswald. Just… Just don’t. Or I’ll start crying and it’ll be a mess.” she said, shaking her head. “I guess… I’ll be going now.”

She got up and picked up her purse and he watched her without a word; on her way to the door she remembered something, turned around and walked up to him.

“I got you something.” she said softly, opening her purse. “A parting gift of sorts.”

She handed him a small box; after opening it he saw his father’s monocle - and a bag from the bakery near her hotel. Judging from the smell it was filled with coconut biscotti and hazelnut macarons; inhaling the sweet aroma he remembered their first kiss, and the way her lips and breath tasted.

“Charlie, wait.” he said as she turned around again. “Don’t go. It’s my turn.”

“...alright.”

She sat down again, and he finally took his mask off; the corners of her lips curled in a gentle smile at the sight of his face and that thing he loved so much was in her eyes again, that spark of adoration and affection.

“I reacted the way I did, because.... I was happy with you.” he said, deciding to - for once in his life - actually be honest. “Love at first sight, and so on. And you know my backstory. You can probably imagine how it felt. I was sure… I was sure everything you said was a _lie_.” he said, his eyes focused on her face. “A lie, deception, a snake in the garden… It hurt me so fucking much because on my end - it was real. Hell. It still is.” he added impulsively and her face lit up.

“I loved you.” he said softly. “And I still do. I tried to stop, but… I couldn’t. I tried to hate you, I tried to want to destroy you, I tried to want your blood… But I couldn’t. Which is why the past few weeks had been hell.”

She started to cry, and it was a mess - but a beautiful one. He kissed her wet cheeks and she was laughing and simultaneously pushing him away and pulling him closer and she was warm and real and alive; and the way she looked at him made his heart flutter.

“I’m hungry.” she eventually said quietly. “I didn’t eat anything today, I was… Too nervous.”

“Well, we’re at a restaurant, aren’t we? Let’s fix that.”

“Will you… Walk me home later?” she asked hesitantly. “I’m staying at the Peak again.”

“Of course I will, love. Of course.”

***

He walked her to hotel and stayed the night; he kissed her tenderly, holding her face in his hands and gently brushing her cheekbones with his thumbs. He also made her cover her face with her hands as her cheeks turned red; he had the audacity to wink at her as he was pulling her undies down with his teeth, just like she wanted him to.

He peppered her skin with bitemarks and kisses and almost made her forget her own damn name and she kept pulling him closer; and she didn’t mind when the night ended. They had many more nights and days ahead of them, more stolen kisses, more lovestruck gazes, more, more, more. He shared his next big plan with her; a plan to get back what’s his - and she promised she’ll be more than happy to help, in any way possible.

But that could wait for another day, that didn’t matter for now. Nothing mattered to her that night - not the Agency, not Oswald’s criminal records, not her - now gone - friendship with Avesta, not the fact she had to turn her life around yet again. Nothing mattered - except for the fact she was in love and he loved her back and this love felt like the most beautiful, warmest thing in the world, even though he had blood on his hands and violence in his smile. He was awful and she loved every dark part of him.

Gotham wouldn’t know what hit it.

 


	2. build our own luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which charlie and oz take over gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was feeling like crap, thanks to my least favorite day of the year - so i decided to write something as self indulgent as it gets. in this one, there is actually no plot or drama; i just wanted to write about charlie and oswald living their lives. and nothing bad happens to them. it’s TREAT YO SELF: the fic, basically. writing it made me feel warm and fuzzy. it’s a nice feeling.

During the months that followed, Charlie often felt uneasy; she was smart enough to know leaving the Agency wasn’t as simple as using primitive blackmail. What she did was desperate and blunt and could easily be used against her; but she willingly put herself under the sword of Damocles, feeling this is the path she was meant to follow. Perhaps she was blinded; but she didn’t mind. What was born between her and one of Gotham’s many masked criminals definitely felt real - and maybe it was foolish, diving headfirst into the unknown, sinking in his eyes and melting under his touch. Perhaps it was rash and unwise, forfeiting months of training and embracing her moral numbness - but it just felt so damn good.

Oswald’s next big plan was to finally have his revenge for a tragedy that befell his family when he was a child; his father was pushed to a suicide and his mother was unrightfully locked up in Arkham Asylum and people responsible for it took everything from him, every last penny, every last shred of faith in people’s good nature - and he was so, so very close to getting definitive, damning proof of that. It wouldn’t bring his family back - but it sure as hell is nicer to weep in luxury, than in poverty.

“Don’t get me wrong, I _will_ spill some blood.” he told her one day. “A lot of it, actually - but it’s time for the name Cobblepot to return to the top. Don’t you think?”

“You know I’m on board with everything.” she muttered in response, trying to catch last minutes of sleep. “You incubus.”

He laughed and kissed the skin between her shoulder blades and she smiled blissfully.

Her role in his plans wasn’t complicated, but it definitely was significant; someone had to scrub his criminal records clean and to re-introduce him to Gotham as a shining example of virtue; he wanted to take back what’s his not by force - but by making people _want_ to give it back to him. She was supposed to handle his good PR - while he’d take care of the behind-the-scenes, more dirty aspects.

“I’ve already arranged everything. I got in touch with the best damn burglar money can buy.”

“Why don’t you steal it yourself?”

“Because I’m too lazy.” he replied with a shrug and she laughed. “And Catwoman? She has a well-earned reputation of being reliable. Why risk fucking it up if I can pay someone to… _Not_ fuck it up?”

“Smart.” she said; she was sitting on the couch in her hotel apartment - or rather _their_ hotel apartment. Oswald had planned his official return in detail; since he was going to resurface soon, Charlie threw the first pebble of the upcoming avalanche and allowed him to temporarily move in with her. They had a whole story, ready for anyone curious enough to ask questions. A very pretty, completely fake story; one of those fairytales that only seem to happen to the rich and the beautiful.

“Of course it’s smart, I’m _brilliant_.”

“Uh-uh.” she muttered, glancing at the screen of her laptop. “Alright, the British should really work on their security… And training their detectives. They never got _half_ the stuff you’ve done.”

“That’s because they kept underestimating me and overlooking obvious clues. But I don’t mind. It’s their loss.”

It was a late afternoon, and Charlie was putting some of her skills to use by reworking Oswald’s records from his time in the UK; she was no master hacker - if she was she’d probably be working for the Agency’s IT or intel department - but she was trained well. Oswald never let himself be known as a high-profile criminal, and he never gave the police enough evidence to link him with the Penguin; his files were barely protected and it only took her half an hour to wipe out the bad parts and rework the semi-decent ones into something heart crushingly good.

“This is almost too easy.” she complained jokingly, saving the photographs from a gambling bust onto her hard drive. “Or maybe I’m simply overqualified.”

“The latter, definitely.” he said; his phone dinged. “Would you look at that! The physical copies of my files had gone missing. What a shame.”

“Yes, what a terrible, terrible loss.” she said, retracing her footsteps and covering her tracks, just to make sure no one will discover what happened. “So, you’re now officially clean. The Agency files still remain, but the Agency has files on everyone, not only their targets… Meaning you’re now a model citizen. How does it feel?”

“Boring as fuck.”

“Yeah, socially acceptable behaviors tend to be boring. Honestly I’m almost sad, you just lost your bad boy charm. No gambling, no illegal boxing matches, the dishonorable discharge wasn’t really spectacular… It’s a good thing I’ve _seen_ how awful you are.” she finished with a smile, turning her laptop off.

“It’s also a good thing I’m a handsome devil. Good looks can make anyone interesting.” he said with a wink, and she giggled; they had this conversation a few times before, between reuniting and making his grand plans reality. He was talking about Bruce Wayne, his childhood friend who grew up with almost everything Oswald had lost, partially thanks to Bruce’s father - and a man Charlie encountered a few times during her stay in Gotham. He was pleasant, not her type and rubbed her the wrong way; but she was as nice to him as possible, knowing this influential playboy has a bone to pick with Louise, who used to also work for the Agency. At first it was all just a front, a way of not making her fellow agent’s life more complicated; but then it became reality. Charlie and Louise had both left the Agency - and the further Bruce Wayne was from Charlie’s personal life and her involvement with Oswald’s revenge the better.

“Now what?”

“Now… We wait.” Oswald said with a shrug. “Kyle should be done with her job on the night of Dent’s fundraiser, which is when, in a week?”

“A week and a half. Louise got me an invite.”

“How nice of her. I keep forgetting she’s working with that guy.”

“If he becomes the mayor, she’ll probably take over as the new DA. Can he even appoint her as his successor?”

“Don’t ask me, american law is an enigma to me. This country is so needlessly complicated, almost as if government's sole mission was to fuck its people over as much as possible. Do you think that’s what Washington planned?” he asked suddenly. “Do you think he dreamed of creating a free country that’d coincidentally be the most complicated place on Earth?”

“I don’t think he planned that far ahead. I think his plans only went as far as kicking the Brits out, then he started to make shit up as he went… And look at America now. Totally not worth it.”

“Bold statement coming from an ex federal agent.” he said and she laughed; all was good between them ever since she abandoned the Agency for his sake. Many people would say he pulled her to the dark side, that he dragged her down; but she didn’t care. Some people are not meant for greatness or goodness; perhaps she was one of those souls meant to be cautionary tales. All that mattered was the fact she was in love - it didn’t matter how bloody and dark his plans were. She could take it.

Eventually the night of the fundraiser came; Oswald was supposed to face Bruce for the first time in years. Charlie - who officially didn’t know anything about Oswald’s history with the Wayne family and was simply playing the role of a bubbly, young socialite making new connections - was bringing him with her as her plus one, marking the beginning of Oswald’s slow return to the top. She’s been in Gotham for a while now, and was slowly becoming recognizable; it was good time for them to start their show.

“Nervous?” she asked him as they were getting ready to leave; but he shook his head.

“Excited.” he replied simply, buttoning his shirt. “I’ve been waiting for this moment to come.”

“Mmm.” she muttered, sitting down to take care of her hair and face and he glanced at her reflection, tying his tie.

“Oh, good choice.” he said, seeing her reach for the benitoite earrings he gave her. “Those fit you.”

“It’s my favorite pair, you know.” she said playfully, picking up a string of pearls. “How do I look?”

“Distractingly gorgeous, as usual.” he said as she got up, smoothing down the fabric of her dress - a simple, cocktail pencil piece with bateau neckline in a deep blue color few shades darker than her eyes. It was one of her favorites; it went with almost everything.

(She favored pencil dresses and skirts; they were simple, elegant, graceful and looked nothing like more voluminous clothes she wore as Penguin’s masked accomplice. Her civilian clothes were all about simple elegance and subtlety with occasional flashes of tasteful ostentation; what she wore when robbing banks was all about the drama.)

“You look great as well.” she sighed as he was fixing his tie in place with a pin. “You look good in suits, you know?”

“I look good in everything.” he replied and she rolled her eyes, unable to contain her smile. She meant what she said - he looked damn good in formal wear.

“Narcissus.” she said, picking up her purse. “Come on. We’ll be fashionably late.”

“Planning a dramatic entrance?” he asked as they were walking down the hallway, towards the elevators.

“Let’s save dramatic entrances for another occasion.” she said, alluding to their alter egos. “Do you think he’ll be happy to see you?”

“Who, Bruce? Doesn’t matter.” Oswald said with a shrug, following her into the elevator. “Do you like him?”

“He seems pleasant. Kind of boring, but definitely pleasant. I can see myself developing a crush on him, if I was a different person.” she said, glancing at him. “But luckily I have a more refined taste.”

“Luckily indeed.” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist as the elevator reached the ground level and they walked out, a picture-perfect couple like many others.

They were fashionably late; and on their way to the Wayne Manor Oswald got a message from Catwoman, a thief he hired to steal a crucial piece of evidence for him; she succeeded and was ready to meet him to make an exchange whenever he was ready.

“Well that went remarkably smooth.” he said after Charlie read the content of the text to him; he was driving and she - sitting in the passenger seat - insisted on him acting reasonably. “That will put Falcone in my pocket for the time being.”

“Catwoman.” Charlie said thoughtfully. “I remember her files. No one ever got anything that could lead to uncovering her identity.”

“She’s good. Sinks her hard-earned money in state of the art toys, steals blueprints, prototypes… It’s a good thing she didn’t fuck up. I’d hate to have to get rid of her.”

“What, you’d send your men to bring you her head on a silver platter?”

“Silver? No, I wouldn’t settle for silver. I’d go with gold.” he said nonchalantly and she laughed.

They weren’t the only ones running late - Bruce Wayne himself was late as well and had yet to make an appearance as they showed up.

“God, I forgot just how posh this place is.” Oswald muttered, looking around the hall. “See this closet right there? Used to be my favorite hiding spot back when I was a kid.”

“Oh, you’ll have to show me around.” she said quietly, glancing at him. “Lots of memories?”

“Tons of them, actually. I think I broke Alfred’s favorite vase… Right here.” he said, stopping near an elegant, empty table. “Bruce took the blame. He was a good friend.”

“Maybe he still is a good friend.” Charlie suggested softly, standing next to him; he pulled her closer without a word.

“If it isn’t Gotham’s most disgusting couple!” they suddenly heard a familiar voice coming from behind them; when they turned around - Louise was there, holding a glass of wine. “Fashionably late. How delightful.”

“Entrance is everything.” Charlie said with a smile, brushing Louise’s cheek with her red lips.

“Now that’s a weird thing.” Louise said, looking at Oswald. “I’ll never get used to seeing you out and about. Feels wrong.”

“Hidden in plain sight.” he replied, nodding slightly. “Where’s Wayne?”

“Has yet to show up, so… Be patient. Be patient for Harvey.” she giggled, glancing in the direction of her - visibly stressed out - superior. “He’s losing his mind. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“I’ll see you later.” Oswald said quietly, brushing Charlie’s temple with his lips. “I have some spying to do.”

“Take care.” Charlie replied quietly and walked away with Louise.

“Harvey!” she called out to Dent, who looked in their direction.

“My god.” he said tiredly. “You haven’t seen Bruce anywhere, have you?”

“It might be a good time to issue a search party.” Louise suggested. “But in the meantime… This is your potential voter, try to squeeze money out of her. Charlie, this is Harvey Dent, the better of two candidates. And better remember that.”

“Pleased to finally meet you in person.” Charlie said with a smile as Dent was shaking her hand. “Your posters are in the hall of my hotel. Staff makes sure no one vandalizes them.”

“It means my campaign is working! Good.” he said with a smile of relief. “I take you’re the school friend Louise mentioned once or twice..?”

“If you mean the girl everyone called _Heinz_ behind her back, then yes, that’d be me.” she said, bringing up one of many details of her - completely fake - backstory.

Dent was a pleasant, honest man who wanted to make a difference; he had strong opinions about crime and corruption and Charlie gladly decided to financially back his cause, for some good citizen brownie points.

The evening was going smoothly, especially since Bruce Wayne decided to finally show up; considering how calm he appeared Oswald probably didn’t confront him.

(She spotted Oswald drinking wine straight out of the bottle and shot him a disapproving look from across the room; he winked at her in response. Later she saw him talking quietly with Alfred, Bruce’s butler; she wondered how did the old man react to the sight of his master’s childhood friend, all grown up.)

And then, Carmine Falcone showed up, unexpected and uninvited; Charlie and Louise were in the corner of the room as he walked in and Oswald quickly walked up to them, looking angry.

“That wasn’t part of the plan.” he stated, glancing in mafioso’s direction; head of the mob seemingly didn’t notice him, too busy offending the interior of Wayne Manor.

“You should go.” Charlie said hastily, handing him the car keys. “Before things turn ugly.”

“Oh, they will turn ugly once I get to Falcone.” Oswald promised her with a dark smile. “But you’re right, tonight’s not the time.”

“Keep your murderous schemes to yourself, thank you very much.” Louise hissed at him. “Go! I’ll take her home.”

“So better put that wine down, miss lawyer.” he said mockingly and slipped away, one last time glancing in the direction of Falcone, who was trying to get Bruce Wayne to shake his hand.

“Christ.” Louise muttered, finishing her wine. “So, how are you two doing?” she asked finally. “Do you want to kill him, or do you still claim you’re in love with him?”

“I love him.” Charlie said firmly. “We made up. Did the Agency reach out to you?”

“No, they just took my letter and fucked off, which is… Concerning. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Louise sighed. “Even though I think they really took him off the hook… We should probably make sure he doesn’t make it back to the list.”

“He’s reasonable.” Charlie said, deciding to act on her belief partners should support each other. “But you’re right.”

They both turned around when Falcone looked in their direction, in order to avoid him spotting them; he probably remembered them from his auctions, especially Charlie and her joy after getting her hands on Cobblepot family memorabilia.

“What _is_ Falcone doing here?” Charlie asked quietly and Louise shook her head.

“Beats me, but this can’t be good. My gut tells me some shit’s about to go down. You better watch Oswald, he might do something stupid.”

“I’m not his babysitter.” Charlie protested faintly and Louise snickered.

“No, but he desperately needs a voice of reason. And this is when you come in… Because there is no point in suggesting you to become his conscience.” she added. “God, you really love him. This is unbelievable.”

“What?”

“Your face. That’s the face normal people make when they see Chris Evans. You… Make that face when you’re talking about Oswald. What do you _see_ in him?”

“That’s not how love works. It’s just… Him.” Charlie said with a shrug. “As a whole. But I guess what I see when I look at him is… A promise. And a sense of belonging, not in terms of ownership and property, but placement.”

“That’s poetic and I can hardly argue with that.” Louise sighed nostalgically. “But that ownership thing… I thought he’d be more territorial. More of a jealous asshole, considering his general attitude towards… Well, _everything_.”

“Maybe he simply trusts me. Maybe he sees a difference between objects and people.” Charlie said lightly. “Also there’s a matter of me repeatedly telling him he stole my heart. I think he got my subtle hints.”

“Ah, but you never know. Remember: he’s a man. They’re simply not conditioned to get subtle hints.”

Louise drove Charlie back to the Peak that night, since Oswald took her car; the apartment was dark and empty, as Charlie noticed with a sigh.

She took a shower and went to bed; and few hours later she was woken up with a phone call.

“Yes?” she muttered, still half asleep, barely holding the receiver. “What is it?”

An anxious night-shift receptionist was calling to ask if she can go downstairs; an angry man was demanding access to her apartment. Charlie groaned, got up, put up a bathrobe and shuffled out, wondering how exactly is she going to murder the person responsible for waking her up.

“Charlie!” she heard Oswald’s voice. “This young man right here wanted to call the cops on me, can you believe it?!”

“Hardly.” she muttered, glancing at him and sighing at the sight of a blood staining his clothes and face.

She turned her attention to the panicked young man behind the counter; he was probably new, considering she had never seen him before. More seasoned staff members quickly learned to pay no attention to chatty man living with Schiller-Aberdeen in 362.

“He’s checked in with me.” she yawned, sleepily taking Oswald’s hand and stroking it with her fingertips. “Can you keep this whole thing to yourself… Liam?”

“Naturally!” the young man assured her ardently. “I am so terribly sorry for the problem.”

“It’s nothing.” she muttered, pulling Oswald towards the elevator, desperate to get back to bed.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” Oswald asked as the elevator doors closed and Charlie sighed deeply.

(She didn’t mind seeing him covered in blood; but not at three AM when she was half asleep.)

“Alright. What happened?”

“I think I killed a guy.” Oswald said with satisfaction. “Two of ‘em tried to jump me and Bruce… So I showed them what happens to people who cross Oswald Cobblepot.”

“Oooh.” she said with a faint smile; she liked watching him fight. He was quick and deadly and relentless and it created a beautiful contrast with the memories of his kisses and tender touches. “And how did the meeting go? Exchanged any gossip?”

“Well, one thing I know for sure is that Bruce Wayne grew up to be a prick.” Oswald said, rolling his eyes. “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree it seems… But that will only make my revenge feel even _better_.”

“Uh-uh.” she yawned. “Did you ask him about Falcone?”

“Well, Bruce claims Falcone showed up uninvited, but… I don’t believe him.” Oswald finished in a low tone. “I don’t believe a single word he says.”

“Sucks to be him.” she yawned; the elevator stopped at their floor.

She simply wanted to go back to sleep; but Oswald wasn’t done talking.

“My god, Oswald.” she said finally, her eyes closed. “Look. I love and support you, but I’m going to kill you if you don’t let me sleep.”

In response he only laughed, finally shutting up; few minutes later she felt his warm body next to her and smiled as he wrapped his arms around her.

***

He put his plans in motion soon after. Bruce Wayne’s good name had been dragged through mud and Falcone had been arrested, after GCPD anonymously received a complete documentation of his criminal empire - stored on a drive Oswald hired the elusive Catwoman to steal.

“Oh, this is beautiful!” he said as they were watching the news, a live relation of police’s attack on Skyline club. “Something tells me a lot of land will soon be up for grabs. Should I invest in real estate?”

“Yes, but don’t count on me visiting you there. I… Don’t like heights.” she confessed and he laughed. “One thing the Agency never made me unlearn: fear of heights.”

“Then it’s a good thing penguins are flightless birds.”

Carmine Falcone died few days after being arrested - he was killed, and the killer left no trace, disappearing like a ghost; but somehow - looking at Oswald and listening to his melodious humming - Charlie knew who’s directly responsible.

“Did you kill Falcone?” she asked him one evening; it took him a while to answer.

“Yes.” he finally said, lazily running his fingers through her hair, wrapping the red strands around his fingers, pulling gently. “He deserved it.”

“Mmm, I’m not questioning it.” she purred, thinking back to the massive file the Agency had on him and his entire family. “I just want to know just how much blood exactly do you have on your hands.”

“Mmm. And why’s that?” he asked, sliding his hand down her back. “Do you want me covered in blood, Charlie?”

“Maybe.” she responded, closing her eyes. “Maybe I do. A girl can dream.”

(His bloodied hands, leaving smudges on her skin; his bloodied lips, leaving a metallic aftertaste in her mouth. A girl can dream - and her dreams were of violence.)

“This girl in particular.” he agreed, gently lifting her chin with his other hand and leaning in to steal a kiss from her, like he did many times before. He was so violent, so merciless; but his kisses felt like peace.

He took her with him next time he claimed a life in revenge; his plan was to dispose of cowardly Hill and to put a final nail in the coffin of Bruce Wayne’s good reputation by exposing what Thomas did to his mother.

From what Charlie saw and heard, Oswald missed his mother dearly; she was a gentle soul who always strived to see beauty and hope in the world. What happened to her, what happened to the entire family - was ugly and dark and so, so unfair. Sins of the father are not sins of the child, and Bruce shouldn’t be paying the price for his father’s crimes - but for Charlie Bruce was just one step above a regular stranger. What Oswald was going to do to him wasn’t just; but she didn’t mind. Maybe she was blinded, maybe she was corrupted - or maybe she simply wasn’t a good person.

“This is going to be a masterpiece.” Oswald mused as they were gearing up in one of Penguin’s hideouts. “Most memorable night in Gotham’s history.”

“More memorable than the night when the Waynes died?” Charlie asked, ruffling her hair; the Pinniped - as opposed to elegant, reserved Schiller-Aberdeen - always had her hair in a state of mess, an uncontrollable mass of locks and curls. It was a good disguise; so far no one seemed to connect the dots.

“ _Way_ more memorable.” Oswald assured her, tying his tie. “Archie! The serum.”

“Here.” Tennyson said, throwing Oswald two identical syringes, filled with translucent liquid. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“It’ll do.”

“What’s that?” Charlie asked as Oswald put the syringes in his pocket; in response he snickered.

“Very concentrated truth serum my most skilled accomplice cooked up for me in her spare time, between getting into Wayne’s good graces and writing very passionate articles.” he said with a smirk; he was talking about Vicki Vale - a journalist who originally reached out to him with her findings regarding the true nature of the Cobblepot family tragedy. She was cunning and calculating and very, _very_ good at chemistry. “It exposes the most primal, basic instincts, one’s truest nature and most repressed desires. And in bigger doses… It just makes people _really_ aggressive.”

“Oh.” she said with a nervous chuckle, thinking back to that one time when the Joker drugged her. “Just don’t use it on me.”

“There’s no need. It’s been… Thoroughly tested. Besides - it’s reserved for people I’d rather see dead.” he said with a shrug and a reassuring pat at her back.

Finally, the grand moment came; they crashed the debate between two candidates - and Gotham wasn’t too pleased to see Penguin. For the last few weeks, people thought he disappeared off the face of the Earth; perhaps he got hit with a stray bullet. Perhaps a blade found its way between his ribs. Perhaps he got bored. But no - there he was, in the spotlight, making his grand speech about debts and crimes and punishment.

(Looking at him from behind her mask Charlie wondered if he really did think it through; the pot calling the kettle black.)

All eyes were on him and he reveled in this attention; he had a penchant for theatrics. Vicki Vale played her role well, her hands and voice shaking in a very convincing way; though when no one was looking she rolled her eyes and Charlie nudged her with her bat, muffling her own laughter. Oswald seemed to love listening to the sound of his voice - personally she found it charming. It seemed like Vicki found it obnoxious.

They carried their plan out smoothly; Hill’s true nature was exposed, and so was the fate of Esther Cobblepot.

When Oswald turned his attention to panicked Dent - it was Charlie’s moment to shine. She jumped between two men, as if shielding Dent with her own body.

“Not him, no!” she said, letting Gotham believe there were first cracks among Penguin’s associates.

They let Gotham watch as he pushed her aside and cocked his gun, ready to take Dent’s life; they let Gotham watch as she threw herself at him and as he gripped her wrist so tightly she was sure there will be bruises. They let everyone see this staged lover’s quarrel, this game of lies. They threw their bait, letting Gotham believe Penguin’s scorned accomplice might come to their aid.

“You have quite a grip.” she said later that night, examining her bruises in front of a mirror. “You threw me like a ragdoll.”

“It had to be convincing. Was it convincing?”

“Well, if it wasn’t for me being used to your grips and throws…” she said with a playful smile, rubbing some lotion into her skin; it was a healing concoction, one that would render her bruises practically invisible in no time. “What now?”

“Now we wait.” he said with a yawn. “In a few days Wayne Enterprises board should decide it might be best for Brucie to step down. And that’s where I come in… A tragic hero with spotless record, brought back to Gotham by his beloved, unaware of his tragic history.” he said with a theatrical sigh. “Et voila.”

“This is the most elaborate heist I’ve ever seen, I’ve got to admit.” she said, leaving the bathroom. “I’m impressed.”

“I’ve been planning it for months.” he said lazily. “Vale helped, obviously, even though she pushed for more… Extreme measures. She wanted to take over the city. Me? I just want a front for a criminal empire.” he yawned. “God, I’m so tired. Killing people is _exhausting._ ”

“I can imagine.”

***  
Oswald got what he wanted so badly - Bruce Wayne was forced to step down as CEO and Oswald was picked to replace him. All his plans lead to that point, to that decision; the beginning of a new chapter in Cobblepot family history.

“There was no other option.” Charlie claimed with a smile as Oswald was getting ready to confront Bruce. “How shall we celebrate… Mister Cobblepot?”

“I was thinking champagne.” Oswald said, reaching for his cufflinks. “But first I want to look Bruce in the eye. I want to see his face when he realizes he _lost_.”

“A sight to remember.” Charlie agreed lazily. “I’ll drop by the Wayne Tower later. What exactly did you tell the board?”

“A sob story, naturally.” he replied, rolling his eyes. “And as a result I now got a whole new life handed to me, including a platinum credit card _and_ a penthouse. My puppy eyes are a weapon of mass extortion.”

“Oooh, does it mean shopping for furnitures?”

“Yes. And I will gladly let you drag me from store to store. Everything for good PR and a well earned reputation of a charming gent. How do I look?”

“Like a handsome devil. Go, charm Regina Zellerbach out of her pants.”

Few hours later she paid him a visit in his new office. It was a weird feeling, visiting the Wayne Tower to talk to Penguin - but it worked.

She came in at just the right moment - as she shuffled into the room that would soon belong to Oswald Bruce Wayne landed a punch on Oswald’s face. A shattered remains of a glass box between two men told her everything she needed to know; she gasped audibly as Bruce gave Oswald a black eye.

“Bruce!” she and Regina Zellerbach called out simultaneously.

“He lost his bloody mind!” Oswald claimed, sparks of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Did you see that, love?!”

“You _know_ him?!” Bruce asked angrily, turning around and facing her. “ _Him_?!”

“I didn’t know!” she lied, opening her eyes as wide as possible in a display of innocent ignorance. “I didn’t know you two have history together!”

“What do you mean _you didn’t know_?!” Wayne exploded, as Regina hurried outside to get security. “What game are you playing?”

“I’m not playing games.” she said coldly, walking up to Oswald and taking a look at his eye. “I’m a newcomer and don’t know every detail of Gotham’s history. All I know… Is that you just punched my partner. Please don’t involve me in your dick measuring contest.”

“Mine’s bigger anyway.” Oswald muttered and she scoffed, even though she knew he knows she’s actually amused.

“Go to hell, Oswald. Go to hell.” Bruce said angrily, to which Oswald only shot him a cold smile, not quite matching his majestic black eye.

“I’ll say hi to your parents once I get there.” Oswald said politely and Bruce Wayne left his office, leaving Oswald behind as the new lord of the land - triumphant and content, even despite a black eye.

“I think that’s it for my friendship with Bruce Wayne.” Charlie said, glancing in the direction of the massive door. “I don’t think there will be more tea invites. Not after you called me _love_. Did you do it just to piss him off?”

“That is a remarkably dumb question, love.” Oswald replied and she laughed, shaking her head.

He touched the skin under his eye and hissed quietly.

“Christ, I didn’t know this wimp can throw a punch like that!”

“Another piece of your martyrdom.” she said, sitting on the surface of the massive, wooden desk. “The news story is practically writing itself.”

“Yes, and it will be one hell of an article.” he muttered in response, critically looking at a nearby bookshelf. “I think I’ll throw this one out and replace it with a giant fish tank. What do you think?”

“I think you should take some interior design classes.” she said, lightly tapping the surface of the desk with her fingertips. “Come here, you martyr.”

Zellerbach came back in a perfect moment - just to see Charlie placing butterfly light kisses on Oswald’s latest bruise. They moved away from each other as the chairwoman cleared her throat.

“Well, that was an unpleasant accident.” Oswald stated, fixing his tie and innocently looking at Regina. “What had gotten into him?!”

“No idea.” the chairwoman replied coldly, as Charlie slowly got up. “I take it… This is the partner you mentioned?”

“That’d be her, yes.” Oswald said, briefly glancing at Charlie. “My partner in crime.”

“Oswald!” Charlie scoffed, hiding her smile. “Be serious.”

“This is very interesting, mister Cobblepot. How comes nobody heard about this affair, if you don’t mind me asking?” Regina asked, turning her attention to Charlie.

“When I first visited Gotham we were still a work in progress. A long distance work in progress.” Charlie lied smoothly. “I wasn’t aware of all the details and no one ever asked about my relationship status, so… It never came up.”

“It’s mostly on me.” Oswald added lazily. “I insisted on keeping it like this, lest it would wreck her good reputation and I’d be seen as a parasite.”

“Well, in a few days you’re going to become a _very_ public person.” Regina warned him. “We scheduled the official announcement for Saturday. Brace yourself, mister Cobblepot. Your every step will be watched… Same goes for people you surround yourself with.”

“Oh, I’ll be on my best behavior.” Oswald assured her politely. “I’ve got everything to lose. No rash decisions, no outbursts… I won’t make the board regret this decision.”

(Something in Regina’s eyes told Charlie at least one member of the board probably already regrets it.)

“I’ll be going now.” Charlie said, smoothing her dress out. “Catch me later, so we can get down to furnishing.”

“Someone already arranged a meeting with a designer.” Regina said with a sour face. “Already had been taken care of. The company really wants to keep its good name.”

“Wonderful! Charlie, love… See you later.”

“I’ll get that champagne.” she said before leaving and he nodded vigorously.

He looked like he was in his element - an important position, lots of people following his orders, lots of money, not a whole lot of responsibility.

Bruce Wayne called her when she was buying a bottle of champagne in one of Gotham’s most expensive stores.

“Hello, Bruce.” she said cautiously, putting a bottle in her basket and briefly glancing towards wines.

“Did you know about this?” Bruce asked, skipping the greetings. “His family history, my family history… It’s oddly convenient that he decided to come back just as my corporation needed a new figurehead.”

“Of course I didn’t know!” she assured Bruce, rolling her eyes. “Though to be fair… He does have every right to be angry.”

“You’re on his side?!”

“Of course I’m on his side, we’re in a relationship! Also we live in the same hotel apartment. I think I’d notice if he was involved in some shady business.”

(Like killing the mayor, drugging the candidate and exposing the true nature of Thomas Wayne.)

“Somehow I know you’re not telling me the truth.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce.” she sighed. “Get some rest, collect your thoughts. You’re paranoid. You’re lucky I even picked up, after your little show at the tower.”

“He’s not worth it, Charlie. This affection, this concern, you, you… He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, but he absolutely _is_ worth it.” she said firmly. “If anyone in this situation doesn’t deserve me - it’s you, since _clearly_ you can’t tell the difference between me and Oswald. See you at the press conference, Bruce. I hope you’ll come to your senses.”

She hung up and the cashier - young woman, named Betty - gave her an understanding smile.

“Men.” she said, shaking her head.

“Men.” Charlie sighed theatrically, swiping her card. “And they say us girls are petty.”

(Lying to Bruce Wayne was as easy as breathing, and she felt no remorse for leading him astray; he meant nothing to her. Their friendship was never meant to be; all it was was just another part of Oswald’s plan, another detail of Wayne’s ruined reputation. His father took everything from Oswald - so now Oswald was taking everything Thomas worked for, piece by piece. His son’s happiness was very high on that list.)

Oswald came home soon after her; he wasn’t needed, as all he had to do was to stick around for the IT guys to get him into the system. He seemed very pleased with himself as he opened the door.

“New era is beginning!” he announced. “Penniless, no-good crook Cobblepot is gone. I’m now the richest no-good crook in all of Gotham! God, I sure am glad I killed Hill and Falcone. I’d hate to be number three.”

“And I’m the best liar in Gotham. What an unstoppable force we are!” she giggled from the couch. “How’s your eye?”

“Hurts like shit, but reminds me of good ol’ times. You could always kiss it better, you know. I’m not going to mind. In fact - I _demand_ it. I demand all the kisses I so rightfully deserve.”

“What, did success go to your head so quickly?” she asked playfully as he walked up to her. “You’re bossy. But it’s alright. I like it when you’re bossy.”

“What a funny coincidence! I also like being bossy.”

Next few days were relatively peaceful - Oswald achieved his main goal, so all that was left to do was for him to officially move into his new apartment and begin his new life as Gotham’s brightest, most tragic and most noble star. Officially, he and Charlie came as a joint package; she brought him back to Gotham, after all. It was only fair she remained in his new life - especially considering being in love would be the best PR move of them all. Nobody knew anything about Wayne’s private life - and Oswald made it his mission to be everything Bruce never was.

So nobody as much as batted an eye when they went shopping for furniture together, after planning out the interior design of Oswald’s brand new nest, located - naturally - in best part of Gotham. Oswald insisted on a bed frame with columns, claiming they are absolutely imperative to his wellbeing.

“But why?” Charlie asked, insisting on something way more simplistic.

“This is not a conversation we should be having in front of other people.” Oswald said with a wolfish grin. “But let’s just say… I think you’ll like it.”

“Alright.” she said, giving up. “Have it your way… But I’m picking the couch. And chairs. I need something with comfortable arm rests.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“...can’t you be decent for thirty seconds?”

“I am perfectly decent.” he said innocently. “I’ve got no idea what are you talking about.”

She nudged him with her elbow and they carried on, taking care of one room at a time; Oswald seemed overjoyed at the perspective of furnishing and decorating a luxurious flat.

(Of course he insisted on a bathtub with colorful lights.)

Eventually all that was left was a trip to the tailor, to get him some better quality clothes; and he turned out to be _extremely_ picky.

“Those two jackets are identical, Oswald. _Identical_.” Charlie groaned after third hour in the tiny, posh shop.

“Don’t you see the difference in shades?!”

“Obviously I do not. You look good in both, by the way.”

“Mmmm.” he muttered, critically looking at his own reflection, same way he did for the past three hours. “No, something’s off…”

“Jesus Christ.” she muttered and he snickered.

“Hey, everything about this new me has to be impeccable. Beautiful flat? Check. Tragically beautiful backstory? Check. Irresistible charm? Check. You? Check. My clothes should represent everything I stand for.”

“So buy this one.” she said, throwing a blood-colored tie at him.

He did end up buying the red tie, and a wide collection of other things; he left his measurements and address and - when he wasn’t looking, too busy admiring his own reflection, like a very bloodthirsty peacock - she sneakily bought him a pair of ruby cufflinks and a matching sapphire tie pin; they were pretty and in her colors - a gift sappy enough for a young couple and showy enough for social elite.

(The cashier seemed tormented by their presence in the shop and she couldn’t blame him - Oswald was unbearable. It was endearing - but also insufferable.)

“Maybe we should wear matching outfits.” Charlie suggested jokingly on their way home; they finally checked out of the Peak and moved their stuff to his new place. They still had a lot of unpacking to do, because they kept getting distracted - mostly by each other. New furniture needed testing, after all. “Wait. Should I even be there, if I’m not affiliated with Wayne Enterprises?”

“Of course you should be there, I have an image to maintain and people to dazzle.”

“...and that’s the only reason?”

“Of course not, and you know it. Or do you want me to spell it out for you?”

“Mmmm. Yes.” she said, not looking at him. “Why do you want me there?”

“Because…” he said, wrapping his arm around her as they were walking down the street. “Because I love you and am so, _so_ thankful for the part you played in this thing. Also because I want to see Brucie squirm. But mostly because you played a role in this thing as well… And I love having your eyes on me. Good enough answer?”

“Yes.” she said as they entered the building. “Good enough… But I think I didn’t quite hear the first part. Care to repeat?”

“The one about me being grateful?” he asked playfully as they were waiting for the elevator.

She pouted and he laughed; but later that night he gave up and told her what she wanted to hear. He told her multiple times, as he peppered her skin with kisses and as she ruffled his hair, trying to pull him closer.

***  
The morning of the press announcement came and Charlie wasn’t nervous; why would she? Everything seemed to be working perfectly for them. Oswald - despite Louise’s claims of being a terrible actor - was playing his part well; he was polite, eloquent, charming. He hid his apparent thirst for blood and other darker urges deep underneath; and watching him get dressed up in the morning Charlie almost forgot about the blood he spilled and things he stole.

(She almost forgot about their circumstances.)

“Wear these.” she said, handing him the gift she bought him yesterday. “It’s… A present.”

“Marking your territory?” he asked with a smirk and she scoffed. “I’ll wear them with pride.”

“You better.” she said, disappearing in the bathroom; she had a lovemark on her neck to cover up.

She left the bathroom dressed up and proper; Oswald watched her as she was putting her shoes on, elegant ankle strap pumps.

“You know, I quite like it when you’re all prim and proper and elegant.”

“Why so?”

“Because it creates a beautiful contrast with the way you are when we are alone. Not quite so proper, not quite so elegant… And definitely not quite so articulate.” he said with a smirk. “People look at you and see a graceful, reserved young woman. I look at you and see… More _restrained_ person.” he said, laughing at his own innuendo; a reference to when they were testing out their new bed and he finally revealed why he insisted on the columns. It was a long night for her, as he refused to give her what she so desperately wanted - not until she admitted his idea was good. And it took a _lot_ of convincing to make her crack, a lot of gentle persuasion - but in the end his silver tongue prevailed and she called his name out tearfully, barely able to arch her back due to her restraints.

It was a fun night - even if it left her with new bruises she had to hide. Other people didn’t need to know the details of their intimacy; even if she sometimes entertained the thought of going out with her bruises exposed - he now had a reputation to maintain. No point in spicing it up with easily misinterpreted bruises.

“Same goes for you, actually.” she said as they were leaving the building. “You come off as charming and polite, but I know you’re actually an insufferable prick.”

“Ah, but also a very handsome one!”

“Infuriatingly handsome.” she admitted, thinking back to that one time he pulled her undies down with his teeth and winked at her, making her blush furiously; he then insisted on having her eyes on him, as a motivation to keep being nice.

She thought about it a lot.

“Do you remember about tonight?” he asked as they were driving towards the Wayne Tower.

“Yes. You’re taking me out for dinner, right?”

“Yes, now that I can actually get a reservation at Lafontaine’s, instead of threatening the owner.” he said and she laughed, thinking back to their first date. “New chapter is beginning. Excited?”

“For a glamorous life as Wayne Enterprise’s CEO’s armcandy? Very. Months of the Agency training are finally paying back.”

He winked at her and she blew him a kiss.

When they arrived, he helped her get out of the car and she brushed his cheek with her lips, giving the reporters what they wanted - a tiny window into Oswald’s private life, shrouded in mystery. Gotham’s prodigal son seemed to be a loner of sorts, only seen in the company of his dazzling paramour or her friends; Penguin had a deal with his men, keeping them as far away from Oswald Cobblepot as possible. It fit Oswald’s image quite well - his story was sad, so it was obvious he was a tragically lonely person, rarely trusting anyone. It was a good facade, a perfect fake surface - and Charlie and Oswald maintained it flawlessly, in their expensive coordinated outfits, pleasant smiles, lovestruck gazes and the way he wrapped his arm around her waist and the way she looked at him when he talked with Bruce.

And it wasn’t a pleasant conversation, even though Oswald made Bruce say _pretty please_. She nudged Oswald with her elbow when she heard the change in his tone; it was something she was very familiar with. Even without looking at him she knew exactly what face is he making.

“My god, Oswald!” she whispered.

“Shhh, darling, restrain yourself.” he whispered back.

“I’ve got a better idea: you do it.” she said, causing him to slightly tighten his grip around her, in a promisingly threatening way. She felt a shiver run down her spine.

Wayne’s last speech didn’t go as planned and she could see Vicki Vale in the front row, furiously taking notes; she looked at Bruce with disapproval. Deep inside, she really hoped he’ll come to his senses and just accept what happened - but no.

(His wild theory about Oswald being involved in some shady stuff wasn’t even _that_ far off - but Charlie knew that cold glimmer in Oswald’s eyes and the coldness of his voice. She was the one who dreamed of his bloodied fingers, leaving smudges on her skin; people of Gotham only knew his charming smile and eagerness. Nobody believed in a single word Bruce was saying.)

Finally, Oswald - as politely as he could, watched attentively by Zellerbach - got Bruce off the stage and took his place. She followed him with her eyes, tilting her head slightly; she wondered if he can feel her gaze, same way she so often felt his on her skin.

Wayne didn’t look great - in fact he looked sick, pale, his eyes fixated on Oswald’s face. He seemed shaky, unstable; concerned - mostly about Oswald - Charlie quietly approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Bruce?” she said quietly, and Vicki Vale watched out of the corner of her eye. “Is everything alright? Bruce?”

She put her hand on his shoulder, he slowly turned his head and looked at her, and his eyes were hazy - and then he pushed her aside. He was surprisingly strong and caught her off guard; she lost her balance and would fall down, if it wasn’t for a nearby reporter catching her.

The commotion got people’s attention; before she knew it - Wayne was holding Oswald by the fabric of his shirt. Oswald was shockingly calm, and taunted Bruce; but lost his patience very quickly.

Charlie walked up to them and once again tried to talk some sense into Wayne. Once again she put her hand on his shoulder - to which he let go of Oswald, turned around and caught her by her neck, tightly wrapping his fingers around her throat, choking her. His grip was strong, and she knew she’s going to black out in a moment; but then Wayne suddenly let go of her.

It wasn’t a pretty fight, and Oswald ended up with his knuckles bloodied and new bruises on his face; she was left with a bruised neck. Bruce was left with his reputation completely tarnished; and the press conference was over, with Oswald assuring the journalists he’ll gladly take their questions any other day.

Shaken Charlie was escorted to Oswald’s office, which was in the process of being redecorated; the fish tank was already in place - but it lacked fish.

Oswald joined her few minutes later, putting an ice bag to his latest bruise.

“What was that?!” she asked him as soon as he walked in. “Was that planned?”

“Not by me, that’s for sure. Usually my plans don’t include me getting pummeled into the ground.” he scoffed. “Neither they include you being choked by Bruce Wayne. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” she sighed, rubbing her neck. “I guess it looks worse than it feels… Though I _do_ prefer when it’s you choking me. You know. “

“You’re still yourself, that’s good.” he said with relief. “I think I know what happened… And if I’m right - I’m going to kill Vicki Vale. I’m going to slit her throat-”

“As much as I appreciate the perspective of you covered in blood… Maybe don’t do that.” she interrupted him hastily. “Come on, Oswald. No harm done, Bruce’s reputation destroyed… Bruises will heal.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Oswald sighed heavily. “Though I do not appreciate the pain. Should I cancel the tonight’s reservation?”

“Are you kidding me? No, of course not! We now have to wear those bruises with pride… Also I really want to try that crème brûlée with raspberry sorbet.” she added and he laughed. “Every time we were at Lafontaine’s we had to stop before getting to the dessert. Maybe those bruises will bring us good luck?”

“Third time’s a charm, so you’re probably right.” he agreed, gently brushing her neck with his fingertips. “Do you think you can fake a breakdown?”

“Aw, trying to get away from work? Bored already, Oswald?”

“I have to be careful.” he said with a shrug. “Gain their trust so they go with changes I’m about to suggest… And going home to take care of someone in hysterics will probably earn me some of those _good guy_ points.”

“Alright, I can be a delicate flower.” she agreed. “Watch out, mister, from now on you have a dainty and fragile lass to take care of.”

Her fake breakdown was a masterpiece, even though she nearly broke the character as Oswald was walking her to the elevator.

“You sure as hell _look_ dainty and fragile when we’re alone and you’re begging, you know.” he whispered into her ear and she quickly turned her laughter into sobs. No one questioned her tears and shivers and how tightly she was gripping the fabric of Oswald’s clothes; Bruce Wayne was allegedly her friend. Of course she was in shock.

“Oh, that was bloody brilliant.” Oswald stated as they got into the car. “You almost convinced _me_.”

“I almost convinced myself.” she said, glancing at her reflection in the mirror; her eyeliner and mascara were very effectively smudged and the skin around her eyes and lips was rosy. “Come on. Let’s go home, I want to take a nice, long bath before dinner.”

On their way home, Oswald tried to reach out to Vicki - but to no avail. She wasn’t picking up her phone; and Louise claimed she has no idea where is she, stating they broke up a while ago.

“Then maybe I should pay her a visit.” Oswald mused. “Maybe I should gather my boys and pay miss Vale a visit. And then… We’ll talk.”

“Or you could not do that and lure her out instead.” Charlie suggested. “She’s not your enemy, Oswald. Remember, she helped a lot. This probably is just a misunderstanding.”

“You know, I wouldn’t have anything using her serum on Bruce.... If only she _told me beforehand_. So I could be prepared. You know. I’d come up with a speech, maybe a sharp, witty quip… But this? This ruined a perfect day.”

“Oh, come on. Stop being overdramatic and don’t let something like this ruin a moment of triumph. I’m alive, you were seen as a noble knight, Bruce Wayne was seen as highly dangerous… When you think about it, it’s actually a perfect scenario!” she continued, until - eventually - he smiled.

“You know what? You’re right. You’re right. This is my day. I got a chance to punch Bruce and rack up some social approval points. I’m going to just take a deep breath… And proceed with what I had planned out.”

“...well that sounds surprisingly ominous.” she said jokingly. “Should I be scared?”

“Very.” he said with a cocky smile as he was parking the car. “What, didn’t I tell you? Dinner’s not the only thing I had planned in terms of… Celebration. We’re on top, Charlie. This should be a night to remember.”

“Alright, surprise me then.” she said, getting out of the car. “Just let me take a bath first. And maybe make me some french toast. I’m hungry, but I don’t want to stuff myself before dinner.”

“Ah, you’re such a demanding mistress.” he said jokingly. “Can your humble servant at least get a kiss?”

He got a kiss from her in the elevator, just the way she liked it; with his hand on her back and his finger under her chin. It always made her feel vulnerable, but she didn’t mind being vulnerable around him, despite all odds. Her vulnerability wasn’t a tactical disadvantage - but a source of satisfaction.

Also he looked disturbingly hot with dried up blood splattered on the collar of his shirt, a proof of what happened earlier that day.

“Now make me that toast.” she muttered after stepping into the apartment. “And I’m going to take a bath. God, I can still feel his fingers on my neck.”

“He’ll pay. But as for now… Just relax.”

She took a long, relaxing bath, only interrupted by Oswald bringing her her toast - and his french toast was the stuff dreams are made of. Not sickly sweet, with just the right amounts of brown sugar and cinnamon, with just a hint of nutmeg, crunchy… She had no idea who taught him that and why, but it sure as hell was a useful skill. Completely useless in robberies and arms dealing - but perfect for making her feel at peace. Oswald Cobblepot truly was a man of many talents.

He cornered her some time later. She was trying to figure out the expiration date on a jug of apple juice when he walked in; and she could feel his eyes on her bare legs. He often said he loves the way she looked at him - but the truth was, she also loved the way he looked at her; he always looked at her as if he was planning something positively unspeakable. It was very flattering - and very effective.

“You’re staring.” she said, without turning around. “What is it?”

“You’re wearing my shirt.” he shot back; and he was right, she was wearing one of his better dress shirts, with pearl buttons. “I want it back.”

Something in the tone of his voice told her the correct answer, and she smirked; they played this game many times before, this game of cat and mouse where she’d rather get caught than run away.

“Come and get it then.” she said, putting the jug back in the fridge.

She dove under his arm and bolted out of the kitchen and he followed; it didn’t took him long to catch up to her. It never did, because she never actually tried to put up a fight. Why would she? She liked what came next.

“Nooo!” she wailed as he threw her over his shoulder. “This is not fair!”

“Life’s unfair.” he stated. “Stop squirming, you’re not getting away.”

He got his shirt back, and she got something better; she got his touch and his kisses and his teeth on her neck. His fingers crept between her thighs and she sighed and smiled as he peppered her skin with kisses; on her neck, on her breasts, on her stomach, lower, lower, lower.

He had a wicked tongue, and he often used it to bend people to his will; most often he used honeyed words or sharp threats to do so. In her case, however, it was all about the direct approach - and all about pleasure and shivers and making her arch her back as he teased and taunted her and she moaned and gripped the bedsheets.

He got her to the edge - and then he stopped.

“What?” she muttered feverishly, her face flushed and her thoughts and eyes hazy. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m just trying to make our dinner interesting, that’s all.” he said innocently, sliding out from between her legs and resting his chin on her abdomen. “Speaking of which… We should leave soon.”

“You are the worst.” she stated, running her fingers through his hair. “The absolute worst. You’re cruel and insufferable and generally a prick.”

“All part of my charm, love.”

She laughed and pushed him off and got up to get dressed, knowing it will take a lot of time for the warm tension that built up in her body to go away.

Naturally, he wasn’t going to make anything easy for her. As she left the bathroom - wearing her trademark black lace underwear they both seemed to love - and opened the closet to decide on which dress to wear he cleared his throat.

“Mmmm?” she asked, not turning around. “What is it?”

“I want to see you squirm.” he said and she turned around. “Interested?”

“Oh, very.” she said at the sight of red rope in his hands; they’ve done it before, except that’d be the first time she was among the people with rope under the fabric of her clothes. It was an exciting thought - something hidden in plain sight, a knot pressing against her and the growing sense of desperation.

“Do your magic.” she said. “Just don’t make it too tight.”

“Don’t give me ideas.” he said, already wrapping the rope around her waist.

After he was finished and she tested it out - not too tight, not too slippery, just perfect to make focusing on anything else difficult - he smiled with satisfaction.

“Maybe I should get us last minute opera tickets.” he said and she shot him a terrified look. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m just joking. I hate opera.”

“So that’s the only problem here? How comforting.”

She put her dress on - simple and black, with a classic leg cut and Queen Anne neckline, directing the attention to her neck and dark bruises on it. She didn’t wear any necklace that time; only what drugged Wayne did to her. A simple, dramatic statement; for a brief moment she considered poking herself in the eye to make it red, but she gave up on the idea.

“I’m good to go.” she said eventually, putting her hairbrush down and picking her clutch up. “Also hungry.”

“Same on both fronts.” he said, putting on his midnight blue jacket; with a sting of satisfaction she noticed he’s wearing the cufflinks and tie pin she gave him. “So let’s go. Just… Don’t speak French to Moreau if we bump into him. He might figure you out.”

“Oh, I doubt it. He was scared shitless every time he saw me, I don’t think he’s going to connect the dots. But alright, no French tonight… Outside of kissing.” she added and he laughed, making her feel as if she had a bunch of butterflies in her stomach.

It’s been a couple of months since she returned to Gotham after putting everything on one card and leaving the Agency; quite some time had passed since they made up and she earned his trust again - and it still felt like the honeymoon phase of a relationship. She didn’t mind, not at all.

Lafontaine’s main room was well lit, spacious and filled with warm colors and Charlie smiled lightly, thinking back to her secret meetings with Oswald in the vip room located at the back. This time was going to be different; this time everyone knew and all eyes were on them, even though everyone was pretending they’re not staring at Oswald Cobblepot and his paramour and dark bruises on her neck. He seemed confident and polite, keeping his head high and she smiled as he pulled out a chair for her.

(Her breath got shaky for a moment as she was sitting down, the knot pressing against her. So much for the perfect gentleman Cobblepot.)

“I feel like a caged animal in the zoo.” he muttered quietly, so quietly only she could hear him. “Everyone’s staring.”

“I thought you like attention?”

“I do, but I also value my privacy. Also I look out of place.” he pointed out, brushing his jaw with his fingertips; and he was right, in a way. His suit was impeccable; but his face was rough. He was very nice to look at - but his bruises and scar did stand out quite a bit. She could only imagine it’s even more visible when observed right next to her own - rather delicate - features.

“Maybe a bit, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. I like your face.” she said, picking up a menu. “Oh! They changed the selection a bit.”

“Maybe I should skip hors d'oeuvres.” he muttered, winking at her; she quietly laughed, covering her mouth. “And dessert.”

“Somewhere in the afterlife our ancestors are _very_ scandalized.” she said, not looking up from her own menu. “I’m not though, I’m… Intrigued.”

“Patience, darling, patience.”

It was a pleasant evening, even if she could feel other people’s eyes on her skin; strangers looked at their every gesture and tried to eavesdrop on every word, every quiet laugh. She wondered what do those other people see when they glance at them, unaware of blood on his hands and a piece of rope under her dress, what do they see when they look at the way he pours wine for her.

Naturally, he made her squirm a bit; by making her laugh and by lying to her about her lipstick being smudged, which caused her to get up and go to bathroom - and this short walk left her feeling very tense.

“How about a walk before heading home?” he asked playfully after regulating the bill. “The weather’s perfect…”

“You prick.” she whispered back as they were walking towards the exit. “You ass.”

In response he only laughed, pulled her closer and planted a light kiss on her cheek.

“You’re digging your own grave.” he whispered into her ear. “We’re now going… To the opera.”

And he wasn’t joking - he forced her to endure a long spectacle, as they sat in the darkness and his warm hand rested on her thigh and he planted a light, almost mocking kiss on her neck. The much desired release seemed to be very far away.

“Can we _please_ go home now?” she asked eventually, as they were slowly walking down the street.

“Oh, maybe. Why do you want to get home so badly?” he asked casually; she looked around, glancing at other people, who definitely were close enough to hear her if she spoke normally.

“Because I don’t want to be arrested for public indecency.” she said nonchalantly; an elderly couple nearby shot her a scandalized look. “And I’m afraid it’s about to happen.”

“You raise a fair point. Fine, we’re going home… Away from the prying eyes. Just you, me… And all the things I’m going to do to you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She found out soon enough, and it was a long night for her; she ended up with more bruises and bitemarks and his relentless, merciless teasing turned her into a feverish, bumbling mess under his touch, taunted with fake promises. He wasn’t feeling gentle, and she didn’t mind, not when he pulled her hair, not when he dragged his nails across the sensitive skin of her thigh. It was a long night, and when she finally wrapped her legs around him he laughed in her face and claimed she’s going to break his ribs. He kept laughing as she bit his arm and scratched his back and pulled his hair and only stopped laughing as she kissed him, her breath hot and shaky.

It was a long night and her body was sore, but it was a good kind of sore; one that can be soothed by falling asleep in someone’s warm embrace.

***  
He woke her up by dropping a newspaper on her back.

“What?” she muttered without moving, still on her stomach, her cheek pressed to the pillow and her eyes closed. “Can’t it wait?”

“It can, but I want to see your reaction. Come on, Charlie. Rise and shine.”

“Make me.” she muttered, to which he grabbed her ankles and pulled. It worked; fully awake Charlie crawled back into bed and rolled onto her back, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, cripes.” Oswald said, seeing the mark his teeth left on her right breast. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I like it when you bite me.” she muttered, reaching for the newspaper. “Oh hey, it’s an article about you fighting Bruce in my defense. That’s a damn good photo.”

“Turn to page six.”

“...what?” she said after rereading the header for a few times. “This is bullshit, I didn’t have an affair with him!”

“I know you didn’t, but I still wanted to see your reaction.” he said, visibly satisfied. “Since officially we go _way_ back… Congratulations, Charlie, you cheated on me with Bruce Wayne. You bewitched him completely.”

“Stop it!” she pleaded as he laughed. “This is giving me the creeps, I’d never see him like _this_!”

“Oh, this is beautiful. And this alleged quote? Him saying _If I can’t have you, no one can_? This is absolutely hilarious.”

“Who the hell gave them that quote? Oh, it’s from an anonymous source. Of course. It’s been less than twenty four hours and we’re already in the center of a scandal.” she sighed. “Does it mean I’ll have to cry on live television, saying I’d never cheat on you and am absolutely heartbroken from those allegations?”

“Most likely.” he said with amusement. “It probably also means we’ll have to tell our beautiful, completely fake story. Everyone’s curious about me. All the eyes are on me.”

“Let’s stage a breakup.” she muttered. “Or not. Let’s keep the lie going. Paint you with the whitest paint in existence.”

“I’d like to remind you about a tiny, insignificant detail: we’re together for real. Me being a good person is a lie, us being head over heels for each other… Not so much. Let’s not make it any more complicated, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” he said very seriously. “I’ve got a corporation to take over. With time I’m going to make people forget about Bruce Wayne. I’m going to be so, _so_ much more lovable than he ever was. Let’s not stage a breakup. You’re a terrific actress, Charlie. I’m sure you can squeeze out some more fake tears.”

“I can squeeze out oceans of tears.” she yawned. “Chill out, Oswald, I’m not bailing out. I’m having too much fun. You seem stressed though.”

“I do? I’m not stressed, I’m excited. I finally got my hands on what I wanted. The possibilities… Are _endless_.”

“Try to not forget about Penguin though. People might get suspicious if he just disappears.”

“Ah, but don’t you worry about a thing, I’ve got it all figured out.” he assured her. “I can lead a double life.”

“ _We_ can lead a double life.” she corrected him. “Last time I disappeared people started to suspect Penguin killed the Pinniped and dumped her corpse into Gotham River. And now they’ve seen me disobey you. I can’t just go away, someone might add domestic abuse to your list of charges.”

“Which… Wouldn’t actually be that bad of a move, strategic wise.” he suggested. “It’s all in the behavior. The more different Penguin and Pinniped are from Oswald and Charlie… The better. As far as I’m concerned, we appear to be a picture perfect young couple of polite, charming individuals. Anyone suggesting we might have anything to do with those violent, overly dramatic and theatrical criminals will be seen as crazy.”

“Wow, you _really_ have it figured out. Alright, it’s your plan, I’m just an accomplice.” she said with a shrug. “For now let’s go with the flow. Planning far ahead… For some reason never works out for me. Case in point: you. That wasn’t planned, and look at me now.”

“Oh, I’m looking.” he said with a smirk. “And it’s as pleasant on the eyes, as _Cobblepot_ is easy on the tongue.”

“You must be really proud of that one liner.” she groaned. “It’s terrible. _Terrible_. Also I’m hungry. Since you’re not letting me sleep… At least compensate me with food.”

“Only if you’ll agree to accompany me today.”

“...well that sounds ominous. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to visit the cemetery where my parents are buried.” he said flatly. “I...Never got a chance to do it, because at first I was on the other side of the pond, and then I didn’t want Gotham to know Oswald’s back. So that’d be the first time… In a long, long while.”

“That’s one way of starting breakfast.” she replied after a pause. “See, now I’m going to feel weird with asking you for bacon pancakes, now that you dropped this grave revelation on me. Of course I’ll come with you, just… Next time maybe pick a better moment to ask. For a seasoned charmer and a diplomat… You have ridiculously bad timing.”

“No one’s perfect, even though I’m pretty close to it.” he said, and he sounded like he was trying to hide his relief behind a facade of cockiness. Being cocky suited him, same way his meticulously tailored suits and old scars suited him; being a sentimental sap suited him as well - but she could imagine he’s not yet ready to embrace that part of himself.

They decided to put fixing the _affair with Bruce_ mess off for later; naturally they had to do it eventually, as Oswald was the second most watched person in Gotham, newly elected mayor Dent being the number one. The anonymous allegation of Charlie secretly putting penniless Oswald - and the then-developing thing between them, according to the fake story they created for the sake of everyone from outside their inner circle - aside for the sake of charming, monumentally rich Bruce… Wasn’t good publicity.

“Did you know there’s an entire hashtag on twitter devoted only to the Waynes thing?” she said as they were driving in a car and she was on her phone. “Waynegate. It’s booming. Also you should get a twitter. We could be disgusting online.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Aaand I just made a mistake.” she declared, liking a tweet. “My account got verified and I just liked a clip of you decking Bruce with mmm whatcha say in the background. God, people are really head over heels with you.”

“Of course they are, I’m charming, tragic and genuine. What’s not to love?”

She snorted quietly. His narcissism was very blatant - he was semi-decent at hiding it, but he also loved to give in to his penchant for theatrics, showmanship and attention. All parts of his charm; sure, it was a very specific charm, but… She liked it.

“Someone just called you _Oswald CobbleHOT_.” she announced eventually and he laughed. “Their friends are shaming them for it, but they’re adamant. I retweeted it. For now I’m pretending I haven’t read the news and don’t know anything about any affair.”

“It’s Sunday. Let’s have a day off from public relations and maintaining a good image.”

“But you’ve only been a public person for a day! Tired already?”

“I’m never tired.” he said, noticing a good parking spot. “And if I’m tired, I’m tired of other people, not of accomplishing my goals. Also… It’s Sunday and we’re alone. Let’s be ourselves for a day.”

“Oh, right, I forgot your charming and polite persona is just a disguise.” she teased. “No, no, don’t say anything, I know what you mean. I’m just being an ass, since you want me to be myself.”

“Ah, but that’s the entire point, isn’t it? Me being charming isn’t entirely fake. Same applies to you being sweet and gentle. Because let’s face it - you _are_ a very sweet person. Even when you’re being an ass. Especially when you’re being an ass.”

“Oh my gosh.” she said, feeling a lump in her throat. “Stop it, you disgustingly charming sap. Don’t use your charm against me.”

At that time of day - early afternoon - the cemetery was almost completely empty; it wasn’t a good time for visiting dead loved ones. Maybe for the better; crowded cemeteries felt weird, unnatural. There was no privacy, and the ever present sounds of living felt like the disturbance to otherwise firm sleep.

It was a warm, slightly breezy day; and the grave of Oswald’s parents was located in the older, more elite part of the cemetery. Their last luxury - being buried among the elite, right next to the Waynes, as he bitterly pointed out.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” he said as they were slowly walking towards the grave. “Even in death they can’t get away.”

For a forgotten grave, it was surprisingly well-kept - almost as if someone was taking care of it during Oswald’s absence.

“I don’t think it was Bruce.” Oswald stated, looking at the names of his parents inscribed on the tombstone and his eyes eyes looked very shiny. “Since apparently he only just found out about everything.”

“I could check if this mysterious someone left any fingerprints.” Charlie suggested hesitantly, feeling lost. The list of potential candidates wasn’t very long; she remembered Carmine Falcone had a daughter who had a strained relationship with her family, but Sofia lived away from Gotham and Charlie doubted she was aware of exact details of her father’s criminal activities. There also was the daughter of Hamilton Hill, there was Alfred - and that would be it. Even if Cobblepots had any close friends they were unlikely suspects, considering none of them took any interest in Oswald’s wellbeing over the years. Bruce’s good natured butler and the daughters of Falcone and Hill - possibly ridden with guilt over sins of their fathers - were all she could come up with.

“Leave it, it’s not worth it.” Oswald said, not taking his eyes off the black tombstone. “Would you mind if I talked to them a bit?”

“Talking to a grave won’t be the strangest thing you’ve done in my presence, so… Go ahead. Do you want some privacy?”

“No, no.” he replied hastily. “That’s not needed. I’m not going to tell them anything you don’t already know. Dead men tell no secrets… But they also don’t hear any.”

She nodded and gently squeezed his hand; he squeezed hers in return, and for a brief moment he looked more like a scared and lonely kid he once was, than a remorseless criminal he became.

“That’s not how it should have been.” Oswald said finally and she remained silent. “It’s Sunday. I shouldn’t be talking to your grave, I should be talking to you over tea. Both of you should be alive. But you’re not, and there’s no bringing you back - all I can bring back are small pieces of what had been stolen from us. I can use those as a foundation for something new, something bigger… Even if cement between bricks will be laced with blood. I’ve done some truly, deeply reprehensible things, things that go against everything you tried to teach me. But look at where your principles got you, and where mine got me. I can’t say I’m proud of who I am, but I’m getting there. I’m bringing back the good name of our family. I’m starting a new chapter - without the Waynes, without Hill, without Falcone. I cleared the board and now I’m the king.”

He paused for a moment.

“I’m very selective in who I surround myself with.” he said, almost hesitantly. “Scumbags like me, broken like me, angry like me. People I can relate to, people who understand. You wouldn’t like them, but beggars can’t be choosers. Even though I think you’d like _her_. She’s as horrible as I am, except she’s better at hiding it. Her name is Charlie and she’s standing right next to me. She’s… Helping me. And you know what? Now I understand. Now I understand.”

He fell silent again; after a while he turned his head and looked at her.

“Tell me about your parents.” he said quietly.

“They’re buried in New York.” she replied softly. “I think they’d get along with yours. My mom was a surgeon, and my dad was a politician, with… Ties to the Agency. They were good people.”

“A politician, huh?” he said, his eyes regaining their usual, mischievous spark. “So either that or a good person. Don’t speak in oxymorons.”

“Oh, piss off.”

She smiled and he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets, returning his attention to the tombstone.

“Thank you for coming with me.” he said eventually, not looking at her. “It means… A lot. We could visit yours next week if you want to. I think I can squeeze a trip to New York into my oh-so-busy schedule.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” she said, thinking back to the funeral. “Hey, Oswald?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you. A lot.”

“And I love you.” he replied quietly. “Also I’m going to need your help in doing something incredibly petty.”

“I’m all ears.”

“There’s a photographer stalking us.” he said calmly. “I’ve seen their reflection in the stone, it’s so well-polished. So when we’ll be walking away I’m going to need you to stretch, so I can spit on the grave of Thomas Wayne.”

“Alright, you overgrown toddler, I’m game. He deserves that. Aaaand… Let’s go.”

As they were walking past the grave of the Waynes she stretched, taking as much space as she could; and Oswald slightly turned his head and spat, snickering with satisfaction.

“Happy?” she asked as they were walking towards the gate.

“More or less.”

***  
She had to put on quite a show due to the rumors of her having an affair with Bruce - she was very, _very_ curious who came up with that fake quote, who was so desperate to try and wreck Oswald’s spotless reputation by insinuating his partner is unfaithful.

“Maybe it was Vicki?”

“No, I already asked.” he muttered, reading something. “That’s not even her article. She admits to drugging Wayne, but says she has nothing to do with the affair thing. And honestly? I believe her.”

“Wait, hold on. You found her?”

“Yeah, she was hiding from me at the Waterfront. Now that Falcone’s dead it’s much safer. Fish ratted her out. We had a nice chat.”

She raised her eyebrows and he looked up and smiled.

“No, I didn’t break her fingers, if that’s what you’re wondering.” he said politely, answering a question she never asked. “I only yelled at her and threatened to expose her involvement in everything. That convinced her to admitting to drugging Wayne during the conference. She says it’s because she was pissed I refused to go with her impossible revolution. Delusions of grandeur, and so on.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Charlie muttered. “Don’t say anything more, I don’t even want to know. Just… As long as you’re sure she’s not the one responsible.”

“Oh, I’m certain of it. Don’t worry. We’ll get that bastard, and then… We’ll figure something out. You can always go full _Gone Girl_ and fake a diary.”

“Oh my god, you’ve watched _Gone Girl_? Did you like it?”

“I did, actually. Amy was a terrific - and terrifying - character. Very inspiring.”

“Yeah, that’s an opinion I can get behind with. Alright, I can go Amy Dunne on the press. It can be arranged.”

But first, it was time for tears - a very heartfelt, tearful interview with Cobblepot’s lovely, dainty partner, the girl who brought him back and was absolutely heartbroken at the allegations. Of course she would never cheat on him, she never as much as considered it; she loved him with her whole heart, it was love at first sight, almost like a fairytale.

“He’s a gentleman.” she stated, her skin bruised by handcuffs and marked by his teeth safely hidden under the fabric of her elegant clothes. “A good man, with heart in the right place, even despite everything he’s been through.”

(He laughs as he talks about burning Gotham down; she wonders if someone from the Agency is watching, listening.)

“And how did you two meet?”

“In the middle of a night, in a dark alley… I had a knife to my neck and stranger’s hand up my skirt and that’s when Oswald showed up. He didn’t quite look like a knight in shining armor, in that ridiculous coat of his, but… In that moment I understood how Guinevere felt when Lancelot swept in.”

She gave a serene smile, thinking back to their true first meeting; abandoned warehouse, sense of urgency in the air.

“He’s gentle and kind and I would never hurt him like this. I love him too much. Sure, we had to spend some time apart, but… This idea never occurred to me. I missed him dearly - but there’s no good substitute for Oswald. There’s no substitute, period.”

And so the interview went, filled with half-truths and not-quite-lies and sweet declarations of love. They asked her about their sex life, to which she nervously smiled and stated she’d rather not get into detail, but in general it’s very normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

(His fingers wrapped around her neck feel like the gentlest of kisses, and the constant denial feels like the most generous of gifts.)

She painted their relationship in the most dreamy, fluffy colors possible - and not everything was a lie. She’d never cheat on him, there was mutual trust, they had something special, something she wouldn’t have with anyone else. And Louise - her alleged long lost school friend - confirmed her lies without as much as batting an eye; yes, Charlie already was infatuated with Oswald when they reunited in Gotham. Yes, she wouldn’t shut up about him. Yes, it was unbearable. No, she doesn’t know if she’s the new district attorney, what is this interview even about?

Oswald - who watched the entire thing live on his phone - was overjoyed; he claimed she was terrific and very, very convincing. She wasn’t so sure about that last part.

“Aww, someone on twitter is already over analyzing everything.”

“Anything good?”

“Yeah. _lmao “vanilla sex” this is a face of a liar_ ”

“Yeah, to be honest… That was the _least_ convincing part.”

“I wasn’t expecting a question about sex! You know, I had a - very brief - moment of being very close to saying the truth… But there were no good words for it. Also I’m not sure Gotham general population would appreciate me suddenly going _he likes to tie me up and make me beg, and he’s good at it, also our safe word is WAYNE and you wouldn’t BELIEVE what he sometimes does before we go out!_ ”

“I can imagine that would be one hell of a scandal, your chivalrous knight actually being a deviant.”

“Deviant in a shining armor and on a white horse.” she corrected him and he laughed and pulled her closer.

***  
They were absolutely disgusting together, as stated by Louise and other people unfortunate enough to spend time with them. It was mostly friends she made in Gotham; he was surprisingly antisocial and heavily relied on her in terms of networking. She was good at picking the right people to befriend - smart, capable, influential in some way. Oswald seemed to get along with pretty much everyone; he was simply terrible at making the first step. How he managed to gather a group of loyal people was beyond her; but he found a way.

Her new friends - people she met through Louise, who spent so much time in Gotham she was basically rooted there - seemed to accept him with no problem, occasionally joking about moving up in the social ranks, considering they’re suddenly hanging out with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. The only downside was the fact she had to keep her dainty act up around them; but she was starting to sort of like this role. It was kind of nice, being able to - for a while - forget her training and just be a well mannered, bubbly girl from a good home, a gentle soul, so unlike the wild Pinniped, who seemed to defy her Penguin more and more often, planting seeds of discord among his men. Naturally, it was all an act; all was good between them and his men were simply following orders. Oswald had his eyes set on a particular plot of land; and he was willing to go to great lengths to acquire it. Simply buying it was out of question; so he had to think strategically.

And he wasn’t half bad, Charlie decided; in fact - he was doing good as CEO, slowly gaining more and more trust and respect. He wasn’t able to resist the temptation of spending enormous amounts of money - but it was alright. No one actually expected him to not buy a yacht, or a painting, or something equally useless. Officially and publicly they lived in a way everyone expected them to - they were often seen together, hand in hand, smiling, in love. Eating brunch, attending a fundraiser or a vernissage or a spectacle, shopping. People were enthralled with them as a couple, the way he’d wrap his arm around her waist, the way she’d rest her cheek against his arm, the way they’d lightly kiss before parting ways, the way they’d call each other _honey_ , _darling_ , _love_.

For his birthday, she reached out to Sofia Falcone, who inherited all of Carmine’s belongings; there still was quite a number of Cobblepot family memorabilia in his collection and she gladly took it off Sofia’s hands. She never talked about it publicly - but somehow the press just _knew_. He was moved - and that night he was tender and gentle. He didn’t give her any new bruises to hide under clothes; he touched her softly, and she didn’t mind, she didn’t mind at all.

It was a good life. They mostly only had evenings and nights and weekends for each other, so they were making the most out of it; during the day he was busy being professional and competent, and she was busy helping out at one of local dog shelters. She always liked dogs - they were loyal and kind and wonderfully silly and she could spend an eternity surrounded by them.

It also led to Oswald seeing her in pants for the first time - it just… Didn’t happen before. During their months together, he’d only seen her in dresses or skirts - that’s just how the life was.

“What.” he said after bumping into her, as she was wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. “WHAT.”

“...what?” she asked, looking at him. “What?”

“Those are _pants_. Until now I didn’t even know you _have_ those.”

“...of course I have pants. Jeans, dress pants, yoga pants… You didn’t think I practice yoga naked, right?”

“I… Never thought about it. Shit, I just lost a bet to Louise. I claimed there’s no way you own pants. She said there’s no way you _don’t_.”

“Do you want to be even more shocked?”

“Oh, I’m not sure if my heart can take it.”

“I also have shoes that have flat soles.” she said, pointing at her feet; he dramatically clutched his heart.

(He later told her she looked beautiful; no matter how many times she heard it from him - it always left her with a flock of butterflies in her stomach.)

***

They reached peak gross at a Halloween party in Virago, shortly after his birthday.

It took them quite some time to decide on their costumes - he insisted on something matching, which narrowed the selection. They toyed with many ideas - vampire and his thrall. The witch and her servant. The most classical duo of them all - angel and devil. They tested out a lot of ideas, mostly through bed - they were like that. They liked to sometimes spice things up with a little roleplay. For his birthday they decided on a very fake, very pleasant kidnapping; it was fun, especially the things he did with a knife.

(She still had shivers thinking about the cold tip of the knife slowly sliding across her skin, sharp edge cutting through her clothes. She wouldn’t mind a reprise.)

The final idea came to them by accident; she was bored and alone at home and he was at a business meeting, charming the pants off potential investors. She wasn’t making anything easy for him; she just bought herself a new, pastel-pink lingerie set and was in the process of demonstrating it to him through photos, when someone on twitter made a dumb joke.

_and persephone is back to getting dicked down by hades in the underworld_

That was almost like a revelation - the most obvious choice, and probably also the best one. She was so excited she accidentally almost posted one of her - thankfully more coy - photos online; and Oswald agreed that this indeed does sound like the best idea.

So - night of the party had come and they were both ready, clad in their costumes. His himation was dark, and he wielded a sceptre and wore a cypress crown on his head; her chiton was light pink - even though they weren’t sure if ancient Greeks even had this color of fabric - and decorated with flowers. She also wore a crown of flowers in her hair - and also carried a plush Cerberus around under her arm, because Oswald insisted on it, claiming it was too adorable to be left at home.

Under the fabric, an intricate web of rope was wrapped around her body; Oswald outdid himself this time, not limiting himself to a simple knotted piece between her legs. He managed to tie everything in a way that rendered it invisible to someone who didn’t know it’s there; there were no stray pieces, no unnecessary loops peeking from underneath the fabric.

“Oh my god, you look _adorable_.” he said after seeing her in full costume. “I’m not going to be decent tonight. This shade of pink? Your color. Literally. It’s the color of your-”

“-sensitive parts, yes.” she said, her cheeks red. “Alright, be indecent. I guess no one can expect decency from a god of death.”

“Maybe I should kill someone and cover myself in blood. What do you think?”

“I think I wouldn’t mind, even though it’d ruin our good bedsheets.”

“There’s always a kitchen table, or your favorite chair, or a wall, or-”

“Oswald!”

“Fine! I’ll be good now.” he promised. “Even though I _will_ live up to my costume. I think I know exactly what did Hades do to keep Persephone at his side… Except for the pomegranate thing, that is.”

“Well, color me intrigued.” she giggled, picking up her plush dog. “Come on. We’ll be fashionably late… Again.”

Rumi Mori - their gracious host and owner of the Virago - was dressed up as Dionysus, as Charlie pointed out, nudging Oswald with her elbow; their friends rolled their eyes as they noticed their costumes. Apparently dressing up as Hades and Persephone was obnoxious - even though she could clearly see other, much worse, costumes. Vicki and Louise came as a cat and mouse, for god’s sake.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Oswald asked quietly, watching very chatty Mori. “Remind me, how did your visit go?”

Few weeks earlier Charlie - disguised as the Pinniped - paid Mori a late night visit. This short and round foreigner was a man of many faces; not only he was the owner of a place Oswald badly wanted to purchase, he was also one of Gotham’s leading arms dealers - and Penguin’s main business rival. He was cunning and deceptive, stealing lucrative deals right from under Penguin’s beak; and this was a good occasion to kill two birds with one stone.

So one night Charlie snuck in, alone; it was a dangerous mission, but Oswald had faith in her abilities. She cornered Mori in his office, where he was enjoying a late night glass of scotch.

“Mori, Mori, Mori.” she said, slowly approaching him. “We need to talk.”

Before the plump businessman reacted, she pacified him; he wasn’t an action oriented person, so it was as easy as taking candy from a baby. She sat on the surface of his desk, looking at his mortified face from behind her mask.

“Do you know who am I, Mori?” she asked, crossing her legs; he nodded.

“You’re the Penguin’s woman.” he said shakily; she scoffed and shook her head.

“Wrong answer, Mori. Try again.”

“Y-you’re the Pinniped?”

“Correct. I am the Pinniped. I belong to no one.” she said, glancing at her nails.

(That was a bold lie. She wasn’t Oswald’s _property_ , and he wasn’t hers - but they belonged together, as partners in crime.)

“Naturally, I used to think otherwise.” she continued in a casual, friendly tone that scared Mori shitless. “I used to think I belong at his side, I used to think I belong in his heart, I used to think I’m lesser than him. I used to think so many foolish things.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” he said shakily.

“Don’t interrupt me, Mori. Anyway. The Penguin… This stupid, beaked bastard… Wronged me one time too many. And you know how the old saying goes - hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He underestimated me. He thinks I belong with him. He thinks… He belongs in my heart.”

This time Mori didn’t say anything; he was listening attentively.

“He thinks I’m so, so blindly loyal, you see. He thinks I’m mindless and inert and docile, until he wants me to be aggressive. He thinks wrong. In fact, he does a lot of things wrong. He’s a lousy, self-centered lover… And an egomaniac, in love with the sound of his own voice.”

Those things were almost painful to say.

“He said some things he should have kept to himself - but no, he shared them with me… And now I’m willing to share them with you, to teach him a valuable lesson. Interested?”

“Yes.” Mori said in his most business-like voice. “Please. Continue.”

“The deal is simple: I know when and how Penguin wants to take you out.” she stated. “He hired the best of the best, someone you can’t afford… But luckily, I know someone who _can_ offer more. The only problem is… You have something this person really, _really_ wants.”

“Well?” Mori asked tensely, slightly leaning towards her. “What is it? My treasured jadeite? Secrets of the Waynes? My lucky dice?”

“Virago.” she replied lazily. “I am, naturally, talking about Oswald Cobblepot. He’s a man with many, many connections… And can buy your grim reaper out. Except… He doesn’t have a reason to want to do so. Show him some good will, Mori. Or not - and wait for the inevitable.”

She left Mori that night with something to think about; she played on his fear of death, she planted the seed of fear in his mind - and now the night of truth had came.

“I think it’ll work.” Charlie whispered back to Oswald. “Look at him. This is not a face of a happy man. This is a face of a man drinking his anxiety away. Sorry for calling you a lousy lover, by the way. You’re not lousy.”

“Yes, I think the sounds you make when we’re busy speak more than actual words. Did you ever hear yourself moaning? I should record it some day.”

“Record it all you want, but if you’ll play it to anyone… I’ll stab you.”

“That’s kind of hot. Care to dance?”

“Yes.” she said, before remembering about her rope. “Wait, no!”

But in response he only snickered.

“No taksies backsies.” he hummed, already leading her onto the floor. “Come on, my wife born of spring. Be strong.”

“You ass.” she muttered quietly as they danced and the warm tension started to build up in her body as a result of this maddening friction. “Why are you like that?”

“Several reasons.” he said nonchalantly. “One: I like when people actually _ask_ for things they want from me. Two: being flustered suits you and I enjoy seeing you like this. Three: I’m an asshole, plain and simple.”

“Well, at least you’re self aware.” she breathed out, hiding her face in his arm. “Heads up. Mori’s walking towards us.”

“Mm. Will you be good when I leave you to make the deal?” he asked, gently raising her chin with his fingers; people were watching, as he leaned in and kissed her lightly, just before Mori tapped him on his shoulder and he turned around with a polite smile.

They disappeared for an hour or so; Charlie spent this time chatting about everything and nothing with Vicki and Louise. They didn’t as much as mention the conference incident; there was no need for it. Vale and her ambitions were an enigma of sorts for Charlie - but she decided some mysteries are better off unsolved. She didn’t need to know everything; she was alright with being just a piece of the puzzle, rather than the puzzlemaster.

Finally Mori and Oswald returned; Mori looked serene, while Oswald looked like a very satisfied, fat cat, barely containing his grin.

“Don’t worry about a thing, mister Mori.” Oswald assured him, wrapping his arm around Charlie’s waist. “Your problem’s as good as gone. Now, have you met my fair lady?”

“Didn’t have the pleasure.” Mori said, briefly glancing at Charlie, nodding slightly and returning his attention to Oswald. “You’re a good negotiator. You inherited your father’s blood.”

He bowed and left and Oswald followed him with his eyes, his polite, amused smile getting fainter and fainter and his eyes getting darker and darker. Charlie felt a shiver run down her spine; unimpressed Louise sipped her wine.

“I can’t say I’m going to miss him.” she said finally. “He did just sign his own death warrant, didn’t he?”

“He signed it many years ago, when he sided with Thomas Wayne.” Oswald corrected her calmly. “For a casino owner, Mori is ridiculously bad at foresight. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

He didn’t say anything to Vicki, who also remained silent; they only looked at each other, as if simply being seen talking would be enough for Gotham to figure them out. It was nonsense; but Charlie decided to let Oswald have his oddities and little paranoias.

“Where are you taking me? Or rather us.” she corrected herself, raising her plush dog. “Not that I mind.”

“Oh, I thought we could use some alone time.” he said carelessly. “You know. Celebrate. And take advantage of how good you look, agapiméni mou.”

“Did you learn some Greek just to flirt with me while staying in character?” she asked, laughing quietly; he smiled with satisfaction.

“Yes, but unfortunately, ancient Greek was out of my reach… So don’t expect elaborate hymns.”

“So how did it go with Mori?”

“As for next week, I own this place. Meaning… Mori’s obsolete. I’ll take care of him eventually. Let him believe he’s under my protection.”

They found an empty side room, and before she knew it - his hands were under the fabric of her clothes and he was kissing her and his lips tasted like honeyed wine and she smiled, wondering if this is how Persephone felt after bidding farewell to Kore.

His hands were ice cold, and when he cupped her breasts she knew he’s doing it on purpose; cold was very effective against her and she writhed and mewled as he teased her, one of his hands pushing aside the rope and her underwear, his lips on her neck. The room was dangerously close to the main event, and the walls seemed paper thin; she had to cover her mouth with her hand as he was doing his magic with her body. The line between what she wanted from him and what he was going to give to her was but a gossamer thread; and he somehow always knew what to do to keep her from crossing.

“What are you going to do to Mori?” she whispered. “Tell me.”

“I’ll just make him disappear.” he whispered back, his fingers between her thighs. “And no one will ever know, and the only trace left will be blood on my hands… Maybe I’ll write my name with his blood on your skin. Maybe I’ll write a love poem. _Roses are red, blood is red too, I’m bad at poetry, but I truly love you_.”

Her laughter mixed with moans as she quickly covered her mouth again, her body shaking slightly. She was still laughing when they left the room, her body even more tense than before, her cheeks red and her eyes hazy; she could feel someone’s disapproving look on her, but she didn’t care enough to look around. Who was to stand between Hades and his queen? Even other gods weren’t brave enough to intervene.

They went home eventually, and she finally got what she wanted; she _always_ did. He claimed he simply can’t say _no_ to her, not when she looked at him like that and her voice sounded more like a breathy whimper; for some reason she never got tired of his theatrics and intricate plans, not when his touch made her feel like this. She loved him, plain and simple; and she told him that, over and over, as Gotham city was falling asleep and under his fingers her skin felt like fire and he sang her body electric.

***  
Even though very few people knew the details of what was between them, everyone knew it’s as clear as day that Oswald Cobblepot and young woman living with him love each other; very few people knew just how bloody it was and how many dark parts his soul had and how much she loved every single one of them - but everyone saw the way they look at each other and get lost in each other’s eyes. Apparently it was heartwarming; Oswald was _very_ determined to make Gotham ten times as much as it ever loved Bruce and his parents - and being seen as one part of a committed relationship, completely smitten with his partner certainly helped. Bruce Wayne had a reputation of a playboy, and a capricious and rather shallow one; Oswald Cobblepot was a charming gentleman - who only ever looked at one person in that special, soft way. He wasn’t above kissing a lady’s hand - but only in her case he’d look up and look her in the eye and smile.

And everyone ate that up. In fact - their very public, very fairytale-like relationship turned out to be so in sync with what the general public wanted it soon stopped being enough. People wanted more, expected more; and Oswald seemed to be very committed to the role he was playing.

(It wasn’t all entirely fake, naturally; he was charming and charismatic and intelligent. He simply didn’t want what’s best for the company - he wanted what’s best for himself.)

He dropped the bomb on her one evening, when they were alone; that day he seemed uncharacteristically anxious and she couldn’t figure out why. Everything seemed to be going fine - no one was even close to figuring out the Penguin, and Rumi Mori investigation hit a dead end.

(He did just what he planned, and Mori disappeared without a trace, leaving Oswald as the sole owner of the VIrago and Penguin as Gotham’s most reliable arms dealer.)

“Something’s eating you.” she said finally as they were in the kitchen; he was attempting to make churros and she watched. She liked watching him in the kitchen; he was a much better cook than her and watching him doing something as mundane as cooking was very entertaining, considering what kind of person he was.

“I guess you could say that, yes.” he muttered in response and she sighed.

“Oswald.” she said softly. “I’m fine with you keeping secrets from me, considering the way we first met, but it’s clear you have a problem. And I need you to remember - you’re not alone anymore. Talk to me.”

“There’s no need for grand speeches, really.” he said, not turning around. “And I trust you. I know you have my back, and I know you really left the Agency.”

(He checked, as he admitted some time ago; he had a highly skilled friend who found a backdoor access to the Agency database. Charlie was on the list of retired agents, with an annotation of being highly unreliable, unfit for the Agency and a potential person of interest; her database and requisition office access were revoked, and so were her license, ID and government-issued seal of immunity, protecting agents from getting in trouble with local law enforcements when on undercover missions. That was an undeniable proof of her really leaving this behind.)

“So, how do you want me to put it?” he asked, finally turning around. “Flowery prose? A statement plain and simple?”

“Don’t overdo it. Just tell me what’s up. I can take it, at this point I think I’m used to you and your revelations.”

“Have you noticed how my public persona is doing much, much better than Bruce ever did? I’m likeable, charming, popular… Everyone loves me, and the board is no exception. The board loves me… Of course, except for Regina.” he corrected himself, rolling his eyes. “She doesn’t trust me, but it’s alright, it’s mutual. Anyway. There had been some very subtle suggestions that I should make a certain PR move Bruce never did.”

“...go on.” she said carefully, trying to figure out what is he going to say next. “Though the list of things he never did is… Short. What are you expected to do, resurrect Martin Luther King? End world hunger? Travel back in time and stop Hitler?”

“Nothing of that magnitude, though I wouldn’t be so fast about getting number two off the table. No, the board suggested I should probably present myself as… Being more like my father, and less like Bruce.”

“...but are you talking about appearance, or-”

“No, Charlie, I’m talking about being engaged. The board wants me to get engaged.” he finally blurted out. “As a PR move, nothing more. You know. To present me as truly bringing back the good name of the Cobblepots.”

“Oh.” she said after a long moment, filled with heavy, tense silence. “Oh.”

“Oh.” he agreed. “Not quite what I expected when I was planning this thing.”

“Not quite what I expected when I was taking that assignment.” she agreed. “Christ, I was supposed to bring you in, not help you take over Gotham and get engaged to you in the process. Somewhere in the afterlife… My father is very, _very_ disappointed.”

“Wait. Does it mean… You’re on board?”

“Well, yeah.” she said with a shrug. “Believe it or not, but I’ve been engaged once. It didn’t end well, as you probably figured out from the fact I was single like a Pringle when we’ve met, but it already happened once. I can get engaged to you. Just as long as you don’t come home next month and announce it’s time for a wedding. I’m not… Big on actual marriage.”

Her nonchalance and this sudden verbal outburst were merely a facade, behind which her actual surprise was hidden; she wasn’t expecting that, not in a million years. Not even once she considered transforming their relationship along these lines - she was fine with its status quo. Engagement and marriage were merely legal formalities, unnecessary deadwood; she made her choice and she was making it every day, after waking up and before falling asleep. But she made her promise, of helping him any way she could; she couldn’t bail out now. Not only it’d ruin his plans - it’d probably also break his heart, which was much more fragile than he wanted the world to believe. His life wasn’t gentle with him; and she saw no reason to further add to his list of poorly repressed issues. Also, she loved him - she could bear some formalities, as long as it was for him. She could think of much worse people to get engaged to.

“Really?”

“Yes, Oswald, really. It’s a strong, definite _yes_ from me. Plus it’s not even the weirdest thing you’d have me do for the sake of your plan. Remember, we’re staging a falling out between the Penguin and the Pinniped. I think I can bear walking around with a ring on my finger, as compared to going around and talking shit about you.”

“See, this is something I’m not getting. Why are you like that, Charlie? I know why _I_ am like that - but you have no reason to be so on board with everything I do. So… Why?”

“Maybe I’m just as awful as you are.” she said with a shrug. “Maybe I don’t feel like coming up with elaborate plans on my own, so I’m fine with just following someone more decisive around. Maybe I just love you. Maybe it’s all of the above.”

“I’m fine with those options.” he said, sounding relieved. “So. Let’s get to planning.”

“Wait. _Planning_?”

“I’m Gotham’s precious crown jewel. We should do it the old fashioned way.”

“Just admit you want attention.”

“Love, _everything_ I do is for attention. I’m a showman at heart.”

They did it the old fashioned way, and in style. He struck a deal with Gotham’s constantly stressed out mayor; Wayne Enterprises covered all expenses of renovating the Cobblepot Park, and in exchange Oswald for one afternoon got exclusive access to it. Only he and people from the super secret guest list were to be let inside; Charlie insisted on not doing it _too_ publicly, lest it would attract the Agency’s attention. She was sure she has nothing to worry about - Penguin hadn’t been up to anything from outside his usual list of activities, meaning he was a nuisance at best and a moderate, local threat at worst - but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

She wondered if her Agency pals followed the Gotham news; she wondered what does Amanda Waller think when she turns on the TV and sees Oswald Cobblepot prospering and succeeding.

Officially Charlie had no input in planning the entire thing - unofficially she made the majority of decisions. She decided she wants it to be a casual brunch, with mimosas and pink wine and sweets from the bakery near the Peak.

It was a weird feeling - getting engaged to a criminal. Not something she expected to happen at any point in her life, but then again - neither she did with the deaths of her parents, joining the Agency, becoming a criminal herself. She kept telling herself it’s just a facade, an act, just a mere formality; she was ready to go to great lengths to help Oswald.

But still - it felt and sounded _weird_. Really, really weird.

And then the day had come and she played her part perfectly, the role of someone unsuspecting and oblivious. She acted like she believed it’s just a private reopening of the Cobblepot Park; infused with Oswald’s money, the park looked breathtaking and her amazement wasn’t fake.

And then the weirdest moment came; that thing she never planned, that thing she never thought would ever happen. He made a short speech - a love letter of sorts, a long and fake list of metaphors for everything they’ve done together. He told all those allegories and metaphors and half lies, talking about how she inspired him to be a better person and completely omitting her acceptance for everything dark and bloody about him.

He kneeled in front of her, because of course he did, after all they were doing it the old fashioned way. He pulled out the box, containing Esther’s engagement ring, slightly modified to fit her finger better.

He asked the question, looking her in the eye with that dark, mischiaevous spark she knew and loved so much, that glimmer that drew her in all those months ago.

“Will you marry me?”

That was definitely the weirdest moment of Charlie’s life - a wanted criminal she was an accomplice of, asking her to marry him in a PR stunt. And the weirdest part was - it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel _entirely_ fake. She loved him for real and he loved her back - so she didn’t feel like a liar when she answered.

“Yes.”

Engagement was just a formality, just a PR stunt; she realized it suddenly and with full force as he was putting the ring on her finger. They didn’t need it. What they had was real, with or without the presence of a marriage officiant.

Her life took a weird turn; but she didn’t mind, she didn’t mind at all.

***  
The sword of Damocles never fell; and somehow they kept on living. Gotham loved Oswald and Charlie and feared the Penguin and the Pinniped; the latter seemed to be on a warpath, after a dramatic fallout. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and hell hath no resentment like a man fooled - and those caught in the crossfire of their lover’s quarrel were very eager for a way out. And thus Oswald built his small empire, hidden in plain sight, right under everyone’s noses; and he was a skilled architect, and a very patient one. He also turned out to be a very good actor, despite Louise’s constant claims; only once he got even remotely close to getting in trouble - when someone accused him of secretly supporting the Penguin, who for some reason targeted those who wronged the Cobblepot family. Oswald came out clean - and in return sued the poor sod for libel. That’s just the kind of person he was.

Somehow Charlie knew this is the best possible world for them; the realization came to her one night, in her dreams. She opened her eyes and she was in his arms and his breath was on her skin and she remembered a voice, telling her - that this is as good as it gets for them.

They were on top of the world in that one. Life was good, even if they didn’t deserve it, even if their happiness was paid for with blood, even if they shouldn’t be what they became in the first place. Life was good.

Gotham never learned what hit it.


End file.
